


My Child Won't Fear Shadows

by SpicedGold



Category: Naruto
Genre: All his kids are out of control, All the sibling banter we never got, Because sibling relationships are the best, Because the canon timeline makes no sense, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Dealing with life and life choices, Eventual ShikaTema (Much later), F/M, Growing up/ coming of age story, Little bit of Temari/Daimaru, Minor Character Death, More tags to be added, Rasa shows off his A+ parenting, Sibling Love, Skips over canon events because I have no patience, Slight Canon Timeline Divergence, Suna politics, Temari may have anger issues, childhood fic, figuring out relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-03-02 14:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 122,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18812998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: Rasa warned her of a lot of things - beware of the desert, beware of the shadows, beware of men. There was a lot to fear in their world.But Rasa's daughter was born to be fearless.





	1. Suna's Princess

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a story about Temari growing up and I couldn't find one, so I decided to make one. I'm not sure if anyone else would even be interested in that sort of thing, but here we go, we'll give it a try and see what happens. All female characters in Naruto are criminally under-developed, so I thought I'd try my hand at it and see how it went.

She used to wear her hair down.

It fell like her mother’s, carefree and bouncy and short enough not to get in the way. It was always windswept and wild, much the same as the desert she lived in. It was _her_ – wild and untameable and constantly changing.

Like the wind sculpted dunes around her, it wasn’t something that would bend to the will of anyone other than itself.

She changed it when she was seven, when she began to notice the way her father frowned whenever she entered a room, when she caught a glimpse of her own reflection and her heart jumped for a moment and her mind skittered excitedly and called out _Mom!_

It was the bitter disappointment that convinced her, the realization that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life seeing herself and wishing her mother was still there. She didn’t want her father to look at her the way he did – disappointed and longing and somehow disapproving. She didn’t want everyone else to see her and think the same thing. She didn’t want them to compare her to her mother, to wish for things to be different, to think ‘If only Karura was still with us’.

Because Suna shinobi were tough. They were made of hardships and dust and scorching heat. They were not ones to long and pine and wish the world was different. They changed things, they did things, and they survived. And so would she.

That was the main goal every day – to make it until sunset, and maybe, hopefully, wake up again the next morning.

 

 

 

Kankuro lounged on her bed while she muttered and yanked a brush through her hair. It was coarse and thick. She could never get it to do what she wanted.

“Maybe I should just hack it all off,” she considered. “Then it won’t get in the way.”

“Dad’ll be thrilled,” Kankuro drawled. “Imagine if he came home and you’d cut all your hair off. He’d have a fit.”

Kankuro was still in a growing phase, made up of chubby, stubby limbs and a round belly and pudgy cheeks. His face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual pout that belied his true nature – he was a carefree, friendly boy. At only six years old, he was quick with his chakra, and had attached himself to the band of puppeteers that lived in Suna, engrossing himself in their teachings and eccentricities.

“So? It’s not his hair.” Temari tugged at it, frustrated. “Why should he care if I change my hairstyle?” He would be mad, though. He would be furious. Because Temari was supposed to be Suna’s little princess, and as far as she was aware princesses did not slice at their own hair with a rusty blunt kunai.

But leaving it wasn’t an option. Spending each day looking like a smaller version of her mother wasn’t an option. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair insisted on standing up in all directions, no matter how much she brushed it. It stayed wiry and alive, much like Kankuro’s.

But it layered quite naturally, just too thick to pull back into a single pony tail. And not quite long enough for two; she had tried. It occurred to her, that if one and two weren’t possible, it was time to up the numbers. It was time to overcome.

Kankuro watched with pursed lips and she fought it into four bunches, grunting a bit at her pleased smile.

“There,” she said, vicious satisfaction in her voice. “It’s out the way, I don’t look like Mom, and now the wind won’t get in it all the time.” Because Suna was full of wind, it howled and gusted non-stop, and she was tired of her hair whipping into her face and eyes whenever she stepped outside.

Kankuro muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said, you don’t look like a girl,” Kankuro explained, pouting.

“So? You’ve seen the boys around here. You’ve seen how they act around girls.” How they grab and jeer, how they tried to push her around. How they corner and intimidate, how they try so hard to be big and scary, but she lived with a demon; they would have to do better than sneers and threats and blunted kunai. “Better not to be a girl.”

Girls in Suna had to watch their backs, had to stay away from the shadows. Had to be careful of what was lurking there, had to fear darkness above all else. Rasa told her that constantly, warned her endlessly to keep away from boys and men and shadows.

“It’s not harder being a girl than being a boy,” Kankuro grumbled, lying down fully and closing his eyes.

Temari eyed him. It was much harder. Kankuro had never had boys jeer at him for walking past, had never had men jostle and bump him in a crowd, brushing their hands on him just because they could. He had never had to check down a side street for someone lurking before he could dash past and hope no one grabbed him as he went. He didn’t have people crowding his space wherever he went, trying to move him and subconsciously dominate his every move.

Her father always made it clear – trust no one. Talk to no one. Never stop moving, keep your back covered, and never, ever turn away from a man.

“You wouldn’t know,” she muttered, turning away from him. She stared out the window, into the streets below. Sandy, dry, and baking under the sun. People only moved when they had to. Most stayed still while the light was bright.

But that was the safest time for her, when everyone else was avoiding the heat. That was the time when she could walk outside and fear nothing. That was the time when there were no shadows.

The perfect time of day.

That was when she felt the most powerful, because it was just her and the comfort of the wind across the dunes. It felt like home. Suna wasn’t home when there were people around, because the people were cracked and dry and thirsted for water and anything to ease the harshness of the sun.

“Girls just prance around looking pretty and wearing dresses. It’s not hard to do that.” Kankuro shrugged again. “My puppets can do that, too. Sometimes.”

“Your puppets don’t have to worry about being grabbed in the street,” Temari retorted. She stalked over to him, glaring down at his face. “Dad says to stay away from boys. There must be a reason for that.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’ll scare them off with your stupid hair and we won’t have any shinobi left.”

Not in the least insulted, Temari grinned. “Good,” she tossed her head proudly. “Then Suna will be all ours.”

“It’s ours already.”

“Yeah,” Temari glanced towards the window again. “But we need to make it better.”

 

“Kankuro,” their tutor spoke sharply. “Pay attention!”

Kankuro looked up from where he was attaching chakra strings to whatever objects he could reach, to make them move. “Huh?”

Temari rolled her eyes.

“You need to focus. These are important lessons.”

“It’s _boring_ ,” Kankuro whined. “Why would I ever need to know about trading and alliances and payment systems?”

“Because one of you two,” the tutor frowned. “Will be running this village one day. You need to know how that works.”

“Temari,” Kankuro shot her a look. “You can have the village. I’ve got better things to do.”

“Don’t dump the village on me,” Temari retaliated. “You can have it. I’ve got places to be.”

She considered stabbing him with her pencil, but decided she would rather keep it. A fight would make their mind-numbing lecture last longer, and she wanted to be outside, with the wind in her hair, and the sunshine on her skin.

“Both of you, settle down,” the tutor warned. “You have the unique opportunity to learn everything about this village from a young age, and to have my undivided attention. Well-rounded shinobi aren’t just fighters, Kankuro. Other things matter, too.”

“The puppeteers are teaching me physics and stuff,” Kankuro said casually, jerking a book off a shelf with a flick of his wrist. “So I don’t need to hear it twice.”

“Your father specifies that you have to attend every class-“

“Yeah, he also ‘specifies’ that we get better at ninjutsu, so maybe we should focus on that,” Kankuro replied airily.

“That’s this afternoon’s lesson-“

“The lesson system is incorrect,” Temari said, leaning back in her seat slightly. “It would make more sense to have physical classes and training in the morning before the sun rises. And then do theory in the afternoon, instead of the other way around. It’s a broken system that sets people up for failure.”

“The plan is to-“

“Also we don’t like listening to you,” Kankuro added. “So having class in the afternoon would mean we get more of the day away from you.”

The tutor cleared his throat loudly. “Be that as it may-“

“ _Also_ , I finished the work you gave me already,” Temari twirled her pencil in her hand. “And I completed the set of exercises for shuriken training, and I got all the answers right on the last test we had to do, so I think I’m done for the day.”

The tutor frowned at them. Kankuro continued his mild destruction, pulling objects off shelves one by one, and Temari stared him down from under messy blond bangs. “The Kazekage has ordered me to teach you. You two will receive private tuition until such a time as I think you could benefit no more from what I have to teach you.”

“So, last year, then?”

“Prince,” the tutor sighed. “One of the things you will need to learn is to keep your attitude in check.”

“Are we done?” Temari asked. “Because we’re just wasting time, and I know everything you’ve been trying to teach Kankuro.”

“We’re not done-“

“We’re done,” Kankuro said cheerfully. “I’m going to the puppeteers to train more.” He stood up. “Later.”

Temari gave him a little wave, smiling smugly as the tutor spluttered. She sat up, leaning her chin on one palm. “I know enough to be Kazekage already. Also, Dad says I shouldn’t listen to men, so I guess that means you, too.”

“Princess,” he said with another sigh. “You know that’s not what he means.”

“Stay away from men,” Temari parroted, words she had heard dozens of times before. “Don’t let them near you. Because all of them, all the time, will take advantage of you, and try to make you bend to their will. I’ve learnt enough to keep this village alive, and I’ve learnt enough to keep myself alive,” she stood up. “And I don’t bend to anyone.”

 

 

 


	2. The Power of Killing

“Do you two think we have an unlimited supply of teachers who will put up with your crap?” Rasa snapped, standing in the doorway to the lounge with his arms crossed and expression furious. “It’s hard enough finding shinobi to carry out missions; I don’t have time to constantly find people to put up with you two – Kankuro!”

Kankuro looked up. He was sitting on the floor, taking a small puppet apart. “Huh?”

“Pay attention! You are not getting away with ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” Kankuro grumbled. “I can work and listen at the same time.”

Rasa shifted his glare away from Kankuro, zeroing in on Temari, who was lying on the couch reading. “Temari. Stop causing trouble.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she protested, lowering her book. “I’ve just been lying here. And I did all my work already, so whatever our tutor said was probably a lie. Also you know I’ve learnt everything already. You said I was doing well.” She craned her head back as Gaara wandered into the room, alerted by Rasa’s shouting. She smiled at him as he approached, and he smiled shyly back.

“You two need to focus more,” Rasa said, the glare moving to Gaara as he padded to Temari’s side. “You’ll both spend the next week studying in my office where I can keep an eye on you.”

Kankuro’s head shot up. “But _Dad_ -“

“Do not argue with me,” Rasa warned.

While he and Kankuro were speaking, Gaara edged to Temari. She sat up to smile at him. Rare were the times they got to interact, and she was delighted to see he had grown taller since the last time they spent time together. Still small and sweet, he looked at the floor, the little smile plastered on his face.

He climbed onto the couch next to her, and she reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. It was soft and fine, and she suppressed a sudden spike of jealously. (Because her hair was a constant mess and a great challenge, and it didn’t seem fair that Gaara’s was so beautiful and manageable.)

“Temari,” Rasa snapped, and she jerked her hand back. “Don’t touch him.”

Gaara looked disappointed, the smile fading off his face. He tried to move closer to her, but Rasa stopped him with a sharp command, “Gaara, come here. Leave her alone.”

Temari watched Gaara obey with a slight sense of longing. He crept to Rasa’s side, standing quietly. Temari drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“For the next week,” Rasa said, eyes narrowed on Temari. “You and Kankuro will not be allowed anywhere other than home, my office, and the training grounds, provided you have an escort. You can use that time to catch up on your studies, and possibly re-evaluate your attitudes.”

Kankuro snorted softly, frowning at his puppet.

Without further scolding, Rasa left the room, guiding Gaara with him.

Temari sighed into her knees. “It’s going to be a boring week.”

It would be nice to spend her free time with Gaara, but she ‘wasn’t allowed’, and that annoyed her a bit.

“Just you and me,” Kankuro said flippantly. “As it should be.”

She shrugged, feeling dull. “As it’s always been.”

Silently, she thought, _As it’ll probably stay, because no one else is going to come into our lives and stay._

It was just her and Kankuro.

She supposed it could be worse.

 

“I hate everything,” Kankuro grumbled, sitting in a huff on Temari’s bed.

She did not acknowledge his complaint. She was too busy spinning around her room in a long, peach-coloured dress.

“Suna has never been diplomatic, and never been any good at being nice to other villages,” he continued, “So why do we need to learn all this diplomatic stuff? It’s stupid.”

Rasa’s week of ‘keeping an eye on them’ had resulted in, with the absence of a tutor to continue more diverse topics, an increase in lessons in diplomacy and foreign relations. Hours and hours of tedious lectures and simulated scenarios, and things they ‘might’ need to know later in life.

“It’s not stupid,” Temari said, throwing him a glare. “I like it.”

“You like learning to dance like an idiot, and how to properly greet stuck up old lords?”

“I like dancing,” Temari stopped at the foot of the bed. “The other stuff isn’t so bad. It can be fun.”

Etiquette irritated Kankuro. He didn’t see a point to it – Rasa had always encouraged self-expression, and it seemed contradictory to learn a whole new set of rules just to speak to certain people. He hated dressing for formal events, hated having to bow and be polite, absolutely hated anything political.

Temari, on the other hand, relished it. Special clothes for special things, new things to learn, new ways to get Rasa to nod his approval. She loved the dancing most of all. Because that felt like the wind was indoors with her, spinning around and guiding her. It felt like a different sort of training – softer than what she usually had to do.

“You just don’t like dancing because you’re clumsy,” she said dismissively, swinging her hips from side to side to make her dress wave around her.

“We’re never going to use it,” Kankuro made a face. “Why learn something we’ll never use?”

“One day we might,” Temari shrugged. “Like the banquets with the daimyo; they often dance there.”

“But we don’t _have to_ ,” Kankuro grumbled.

“Maybe I _want_ to.” She had been to one banquet before, and admired the ladies in pretty dresses, before Yashamaru had collected her for bed. She hadn’t been allowed to dance then, but sometimes she pretended. Sometimes she forced Kankuro to dance with her until he dropped to the floor and refused to get up again.

And sometimes, when Yashamaru wasn’t paying attention, she snuck into Gaara’s room to teach him to dance. (He was awful at it, but it didn’t matter because she got time with him, and got to dance, and Gaara always lit up when he saw her.)

“Shinobi don’t dance,” Kankuro retorted.

“But princesses do,” Temari grabbed his arm, trying to pull him up. “Dance with me.”

“No. I’m not a princess.”

“You never do anything nice with me.”

“I had to dance for the stupid lesson, I’m not doing again in my free time.” He pried her fingers off his arm. “I’m gonna work on my puppets. Better than dancing.”

Temari flicked her hair back. “No one ever wants to do anything fun with me.”

“Make Yashamaru dance with you,” Kankuro stood up.

“He doesn’t like to. No one does.”

“Well, there. No one likes it. So stop whining about it.” Kankuro made a face, wandering out her room. He shouted back over his shoulder, “Maybe you should spend more time training and less time prancing around, pretty princess, and then Dad’ll pay attention to you.” He paused in the doorway. “You know, since he doesn’t care either. He just wants us to learn everything.”

“I train more than you,” she retorted. “And I’m doing fine.”

But Rasa didn’t give her the time and attention she wanted. She didn’t know how to get it from him.

She would try anything.

 

She and Kankuro wandered side by side, leaving the familiar streets around home for a place they had never been before. Kankuro was searching for a specific house, assuring her that there was something he needed for his puppets. She didn’t mind spending the time with him, but the streets were growing narrower, and people were looking at her and their expressions made her skin crawl.

She didn’t let it show, of course. She strode along, head held high, confidence in every stride, but she knew they were watching her path. They were always watching her. Leering from the shadows, occasionally reaching out hands towards her, but a glare in their direction was enough to get them to draw back.

Kankuro stopped in front of a dingy, run-down looking house. It blended into the rest of the street; sand-coloured, cracked walls, buildings crammed on top of each other. “It’s here. You have to wait outside.”

“Well, then don’t take forever,” Temari grumbled. She crossed her arms. “If I get bored, I’m leaving without you.”

“I won’t be long,” Kankuro assured, before rapping on the door with a practiced series of knocks.

Temari rolled her eyes as the door opened. Coded knocking, really? Were all puppeteers eccentric?

Alone, she leaned against the wall, looking at the ground beneath her feet, digging a small furrow into the sand with the toe of one sandal. The heat wrapped around her, and she contemplated moving to a shadier spot. There wasn’t much to choose from; the sun was still angled too high to be helpful. She kicked the sand lightly, arms still crossed and skin dampening as the sun lingered on it.

“Morning, Princess.”

She stiffened slightly, turning towards the voice. The man staring her down was tall and lithe, his eyes dark and hardened in a gaunt face with darkly tanned skin. His eyes bored holes into her, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Her instincts screamed to run, but she pushed them down, stubbornly standing her ground.

“Do I know you?” she asked coolly, letting her arms hang loose but ready at her side.

“No. You don’t.” The man looked her up and down, and he made no secret of the fact.

She frowned, unnerved by his scrutiny.

“No one cares who we are. No one knows who we are.” He sneered at her. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you? Karura would have been so proud, if your father hadn’t killed her.”

“He didn’t,” she said coldly, glaring at the man with as much ferocity as she could muster. No matter how she felt, no matter how much he made her squirm, she wouldn’t show fear, and she wouldn’t acknowledge it. Suna shinobi didn’t flinch, and didn’t back down. Certainly not Rasa’s children.

Rasa’s children feared nothing.

“Sure, he did. And now look, pretty little princess, you’re going to have to grow up all alone-“ He reached a hand towards her face.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, slapping his hand away, heartbeat rising suddenly.

The man sneered down at her. “Why not? How are you going to stop me?”

She wanted a weapon, and she wasn’t carrying any. She wouldn’t make that mistake again, if she got out of this one. Mentally, she willed Kankuro to hurry up, to come outside again, to just stand at her side, because she felt stronger around him.

“You have no power here, in this street, in this village, in this world,” he said. “You’re nothing here but another life for the desert to take. But,” he said, trying to reach for her again, “Let me take you first, and keep you away from the desert.”

“Stay away from me,” she snarled.

“Princess, fight as much as you like – you’ll never be strong enough, living your pampered life, to take on the real world. And I’m very real.”

Her heart was pounding now, but she stayed focused. _He’s nothing_ , she told herself. Nothing but another shadow to stay away from. Nothing but yet another man to avoid. Her father’s warnings were ringing in her ears.

His hand touched her shoulder and she knocked his arm away with as much force as she could, fingers itching to get around some sort of weapon, and she growled under her breath, squashing down her feelings of helplessness.

“The Kazekage will deal with you,” she said, resorting to her very last line of defence. She hated using her father as an excuse, hated being singled out, treated differently, because of her birth right, but she needed something to make him back off.

“The Kazekage,” he loomed, not backing down, “Doesn’t give a _shit_ about people like us. If he did, we wouldn’t be living like this. Wouldn’t be struggling every day. So, no, Princess, I don’t think he’ll deal with us. I don’t think he’ll care what we do at all. This village is in ruins because of him.”

She took a step back. Self-preservation dictated she gain distance, but her shinobi instincts protested at losing ground, and therefore power.

“Scream for help,” the man said, voice dropping low. “See what happens. No one will come. No one will ever come.”

She flicked her eyes to the side, judging the distance to the wall. If she could get above him, she might have a chance.

“Go on,” he encouraged. “Call someone. Scream. Beg. It doesn’t matter what you do-“

She darted to the wall, gathering her chakra and making a leap upwards. Her feet touched the wall, she kept her grip, placing one hand against the rough sandstone, and pushed off, flipping backwards. The height allowed her to land on the man’s shoulders, and she grappled for his neck, swinging her body and hefting her weight just right.

She felt the muscles in his neck tighten, and stopped her motion, arms gripped effectively around his neck, at the very limits of how it could stretch before breaking.

“I don’t scream for help,” she said, jerking her arms slightly to make it very, _very_ clear that she could kill him in an instant. “You do.”

“Bitch, get off me,” his voice rasped slightly, airflow lessened by the pressure around his neck. His fingers scrambled at her arms, cracked and grimy fingernails digging into her skin.

“I can kill you right now,” she whispered, “Without even thinking about it. Leave your corpse in the sand and go about my day as though nothing happened – because that’s what you were going to do to _me_.”

He gurgled something, running low on oxygen. His scratching grew more frantic, cut into her flesh and raised thick red lines.

Temari’s grip did not waver. “You hide away and try to prey on others, like some useless snake.”

“Let go.” It was less a command and more of a plea. “Let . . . go . . .”

It was unbelievably thrilling, feeling his pulse jump against her arm. It was so slow compared to hers. Her heart was rushing and racing.

“This is my village,” she said softly, “And Suna has no need for scum like you.” She could have held him until he suffocated. But she was angry and drunk on power, and so twisted her arms just a bit more. There was a slight creak, like bone scraping bone, then a satisfying snap and the man dropped to the floor in a dead heap.

Temari dismounted the corpse, staring at him for a bit.

The realization sunk into her stomach. She had killed a man. She had killed a man who was trying to take advantage of her. She had turned the tables on a fight that he thought he could win. She had taken his confidence, his fucking _male entitlement_ , and turned it to her advantage.

It felt amazing.


	3. Goals

“Did you kill someone?” Rasa singled her out after dinner.

Temari froze in place, halfway out the door on her way to her room. She looked hesitantly over her shoulder. “. . . Yes . . .”

“Why?” His voice was flat, and Temari couldn’t guess what he was thinking.

“He grabbed me. Said he was going to take me away.” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Just like you said they would.” She wasn’t sure who ‘they’ was, but she had always assumed Rasa meant desperate men, who needed food and water, like everyone else in the village. She was an easy scapegoat at the moment, more of a target than any other girl her age.

Suna was looking for someone to blame, for the lack of water and the lack of the food. Rasa was untouchable, but she wasn’t. She was a bargaining chip.

“What did you do?”

“Broke his neck.” She turned slightly to face him, uncertain of what would happen next. Assuming punishment would follow, she rushed to justify herself, “He told me to scream for help, that no one would come, that you didn’t care about anyone in the village, that everything was your fault and I-“

Rasa held up a hand, stopping her outburst.

She swallowed hard, waiting.

He made her nervous. He was powerful and intimidating, and she was never certain how to interpret what he did. She didn’t know if she was supposed to be defiant, or if she was supposed to yield to him. She had no idea what expectations he had.

“You killed him on your own?”

“Yes.” She flicked her eyes to his, then down at the floor. “No one else was there.”

He approached her, and she fought the urge to back away. She stood her ground, heart speeding up.

Rasa loomed over her, his face skilfully blank. He lifted one arm, and Temari flinched slightly, jaw clenching. To her surprise, Rasa rested his hand on her head, ruffling her hair ever so slightly.

“Good girl,” he said gruffly. “You did well.”

“I . . . did . . .?” She didn’t look up, keeping her chin tipped down, but she was acutely aware of his hand on her hair.

“If anyone tries anything with you,” Rasa said, voice unusually soft, and it made Temari feel a warm glow in her chest, “Then tear them apart. No one overpowers you and no one takes advantage of you. Tomorrow, I have a meeting with the council. You can come with me, and listen.”

Temari smiled to herself, keeping her face down and hidden, pride swelling in her chest.

Rasa walked past her, hand sliding off her head as he went, and she turned to watch him. The message was clear – Attack anyone who came near her, destroy them, and get her father’s approval and soft attention.

She stored the information away, heart thrilling.

Killing a man got her noticed.

 

The wind was howling again. It sent sand flying in all directions, and it stung at the exposed skin of her hands and shins. She lifted the thin scarf around her neck to cover her nose and mouth, eyes narrowed against the onslaught.

The training grounds were empty; few people liked to be out when the wind was this rough. It roared past her ears, whipping her bangs away from her face, biting into her. It shook her to the core, making her legs unsteady, but it felt _right_.

The rhythm of the gales matched the way her blood thrilled through her. The screaming sound in her ears was the same as the constant voice in her head reminding her to fear nothing, because she was Rasa’s child, she was a princess, and she owned the world. The wind was wild and empowering, clearing her a path.

She stood alone because the wind drove everyone else away. And that was like protection, that was a comfort, because in Suna the people were as harsh and dry as the dunes, and just as dangerous. She liked having the space to herself, because she didn’t have to look over her shoulder, constantly checking if she was safe. No one would try anything while she was surrounded by the gales and gusts.

She didn’t have to think of responsibility out here, of how the desert was drier every month, of how food was scarce and supplies didn’t always get to them. She didn’t have to worry about Gaara’s demon causing trouble, she didn’t have to worry about anything when the wind was around her.

She could practice without concern for her safety, running through certain movements over and over until they became second nature. She could learn to brace her body against the wind and stand firm in it, no matter how hard it pushed her. She could learn to calculate how to throw shuriken and kunai when the wind would change their paths and send them places she never imagined.

She could learn to watch the shifting sands and tell when the wind was changing. And she learned to watch for shadows, because they could mean someone was coming, they could mean something was above her, they could tell her exactly what the world was trying to do to her.

Shadows never meant anything good, not in the vast expanses of the desert. And so she learned to respect them and keep away from them, and stay under the watchful eye of the sun.

 

Rasa had told her not to go into the North desert alone. Missing nin and marauders roamed there, water was scarce, and the weather could take her down faster than the snakes that wound sideways through the sand.

But she was curious, and tired of the same old places, and interested in old myths. Her history teacher had told her that, in previous times of drought, parents would abandon their children in the dunes to let the desert claim them. It kept the precious water they had available for the adults, for those who supported the village and kept it alive.

Children were expendable.

Children were replaceable.

The low numbers of shinobi made Temari wonder if this phenomenon was true, and she scaled one sand dune early in the morning, sinking almost to her knees in the soft sand, feeling it burn hot against her skin. She crested a dune, and turned to look back at the village. Already, her throat was dry.

The North Desert took life fast, and gave nothing back. She started down the dune, further from the village, leaving it out of sight. The base of the dune gave way to flatter, harder sand. It was baked hard by the sun, and cracked in broken patterns. She could see nothing for miles, not even a cactus.

The air was silent and still. The horizon shimmered and wavered in the sun.

She wandered a bit, until she came across the first skeleton.

Barely larger than she was, caught with one white and bony arm outstretched, she could only imagine the child had been trying to crawl back to the village before the heat was too much.

“Didn’t work, did it?” she muttered, poking at the skull. It was bleached white, and she marvelled at how this heap of clean and beautiful bones had once been a person just like her. With thoughts and feelings, and now they were nothing. It was fascinating. Alive one moment, dead the next, and the world carried on as though nothing had happened.

The next two skeletons she found were together, wrapped around each other, in a white, eternal embrace. These were younger, smaller. She thought of Gaara, reaching out a hand to close her fingers around one dead arm, to try to gauge how much thinner these arms had been than her baby brother’s. Gaara was only four – little wrists so narrow and delicate. The skeletons felt the same as he did.

The next one took her by surprise, because it wasn’t whitewashed and sun-baked like the others. She next body she found was just that – a body. A small child, still with clothes on and paper-dry skin slung over bone. A relatively fresh death. The desert could bring a body down to bone in mere weeks if it wanted.

It should have been jarring, to know that the practice she had been told was over was still occurring. But she didn’t feel anything amiss, just poked at the leathery skin of an arm. It felt hard and tough, devoid of any of the moisture that made it human. It didn’t bend under her finger, and her light touch didn’t influence the corpse at all.

She turned away, eyes fixed on the dune that would take her back to the village. She had seen everything she needed to see. She stopped when a small shadow fell over her, falling immediately into a defensive position. The shadow came again, and she looked up, squinting to see against the white-blue of the sky. A buzzard circled overhead.

She ignored it, continuing on her path. She knew where it was going - to see if there was anything left on the child’s corpse. Maybe, she mused, she would come back here again, and see if any new bodies appeared.

 

After days and hours of practice, Temari found she still couldn’t focus her chakra enough to stand on the soft sand without sinking down. She had to be able to do it, because soft sand would drag her down, slow her movements, change everything. She had been training for ages, under the tutelage of no less than three Jounin, who had appeared unable to verbalise what she needed to know.

She stalked home, frustrated, wanting help. People called out as walked, making crude remarks about her, about the Kazekage, hurling insults when she didn’t respond. She ignored them with practiced ease, used to the verbal abuse. As long as they stayed away from her, she didn’t care what they said.

As usual, help was not at home. Her father was still out, and after wandering the house and kicking Kankuro awake from a nap just because, she went to find Yashamaru, in case he knew when Rasa would return that day.

“Yashamaru,” she said, stomping one foot in irritation. “When is Dad coming home? I need to talk to him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be home soon,” Yashamaru said soothingly, only half paying attention to her. He was folding blankets, because Gaara was a restless, violent sleeper and destroyed bedding at an alarming rate when left on his own.

“Soon isn’t an answer,” she muttered. Her annoyance was evident in her voice, because Yashamaru only had time for Gaara, and never for her or Kankuro. She stomped away, into the hall to wait near the front door. She was leaning against the wall, kicking one heel into it, when Gaara came tentatively up to her.

He smiled up at her, from under wayward red curls. “Can we play?”

“I’m busy,” she sniffed, pointedly looking away. “Ask Kankuro.”

“He’s busy, too.” Gaara considered his options for a moment, before deciding, “I’ll wait with you.”

“Whatever.” She kicked the wall again, settling into a methodical rhythm, with Gaara standing at her side, with a tense smile on his face. He didn’t often get time with her, and he was treasuring it. Ordinarily, Temari would treasure it, too, but she was too frustrated to savour anything.

It wasn’t long before the door opened and Rasa entered without sparing a glance at the two children waiting. He pulled off his Kazekage robe and placed it on the hook near the door.

“Dad,” Temari began. “I need help with something. Can we train together?”

Rasa didn’t look at her. He stared at Gaara, eyes narrowing. Gaara stayed close to Temari’s side, the small smile fading off his face.

Temari pushed her bangs out of her face.

“Dad,” she tried again.

Rasa brushed past her, shouting into the house, “Yashamaru! Why is Gaara out here all alone!”

“Dad,” she trailed after him. Gaara followed close behind her.

Rasa moved swiftly, looking into rooms. “Yashamaru!”

“Dad!”

“Not now!” he roared, turning on her.

Temari stopped, and Gaara bumped into her back.

“I don’t have time for you, now go somewhere else and stop bothering me,” he snarled. He threw her an irritated look before continuing into the house.

Temari stared at the floor. Gaara tugged her sleeve.

“Tem,” he said softly, “Can we play?”

“No,” she snapped, yanking out of his grasp. She pushed past him, annoyed and frustrated. “Not now.”

She didn’t look back at him, but Gaara leant against the wall, looking at his toes. He stayed there until Yashamaru came to look for him.

Temari ran upstairs, kicking Kankuro’s door open. He startled slightly, jerking his head up from where he was sitting on the floor surrounded by weapons and tools. “Tem?”

“I hate him,” she snapped, throwing herself onto Kankuro’s bed.

“What’d he do this time?” Kankuro returned his attention to what he was doing.

“Nothing. That’s the point. He doesn’t do anything with us.” She punched his pillow a few times.

“We’ve got teachers for that stuff,” Kankuro said.

“They don’t know as much as Dad.” Temari pushed her bangs out of her eyes again. “I don’t learn anything useful with them.”

They were mostly focused on getting her to listen, and she didn’t want to listen to anyone. She wanted to be better, she wanted to be _noticed_ , and enduring endless lectures was not helping her cause. “You’ve got your crazy band of puppet fools, but I’ve only got the teachers Dad gave us.”

“They’re not crazy,” Kankuro protested.

“They are. Have you seen them? They paint their faces in obnoxious patterns and dress like they’re on their way to a Kabuki performance.”

“Yeah,” Kankuro grinned. He had lost several baby teeth in the last month, and his grin had absent spots in it. “I’m gonna do it, too.”

“Dad’s going to hate it.”

“That’s his problem. I don’t care if he hates how I dress.” He looked at his sister. She stared back at him, glumly. “Whaddya want, Tem? You just gonna stare at me all evening?”

“I _want_ Dad to pay attention to me. But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

“Probably not,” Kankuro put his tools down, standing up with a resigned sigh. He stretched, before coming over to hop onto the bed next to her. “We can sit and talk, if you want?”

“Talk about what? Nothing ever happens here.” Temari nudged into his shoulder. They often lay close together, taking what small comfort they could from having each other. Both of them desperate for contact and touch, both touch-starved and longing for affection from somewhere, anywhere. “I want to see the world.”

Kankuro glanced at her curiously. “You want to leave?”

“No. Not leave. Just . . .” she sighed. “Just see the world. See what else there is. Meet people.”

“Dad says it’s dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous here, too.”

“Yeah.” Kankuro folded his hands over his stomach. After a while, he added, “I hope you do.”

“What?”

“I hope you do see the world. ‘Cause it’ll make you happy. And you don’t really have anything special yet. I’ve got my ‘crazy band of puppet fools’. You need something too.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “The whole world?”

“If that’s what you want. Dad says we have to make the changes we want, no one’s gonna just hand them to us. So, you know.”

“If I want the world,” she mused. “I have to make it happen.” She smiled. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Maybe not the _whole_ world then. But some of it.”

“Some of it,” she agreed. “I’ll make that happen.”

 

 


	4. Princess VS Princess

“This is the . . .” Kankuro scrunched his face up, mentally adding. “Sixteenth day in a row we’re having bread for breakfast.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Temari grumbled, sending him a scathing look over her shoulder as she climbed the counter to reached into a high cupboard. “There’s no food. I can’t change that.”

There used to be someone bustling around the house helping cook, but after one suspicious night where Gaara wouldn’t stop crying, she hadn’t come back to the house. Kankuro thought she’d left and found a better job. Temari kept her theory to herself.

Yashamaru took care of most meals nowadays.

At least, when there was food – and that had been hard to find as well lately. Temari couldn’t remember the last time the cupboards had been full. They were stocked now with measly dried rations, and the fridge had milk and a few bits and pieces. Rasa had been late home for weeks trying to come up with some way to get enough supplies into the village.

“There’s two potatoes,” Temari said. “I can cook those.”

Kankuro sighed, from somewhere inside the fridge.

“Success!” Temari shouted, yanking a tin from the very back of the cupboard. “Tin of apples!”

“That’s not very exciting,” Kankuro said.

“But it’s not bread,” Temari hopped to the floor. “You don’t have to eat them; I’ll eat them all myself.”

“No, I want some,” Kankuro made a swipe for the tin, and Temari snatched it away.

They settled down eventually, glaring at each other over the table, but sharing the tin. Yashamaru entered a few minutes later, with Gaara trotting behind him.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “Did you two find enough to eat?”

“Barely,” Kankuro replied.

Yashamaru smiled at him. “I’ll be making soup later today. That should last a few days. And I’m taking Gaara shopping with me later, any special requests?”

“I need arrows,” Kankuro answered instantly. “And wire for snares.”

Temari shrugged. “Chocolate if you can find some.”

Yashamaru nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They fell into silence as he bustled around the kitchen, Gaara mirroring his every move.

Temari had finished eating when Rasa entered the kitchen, wordlessly dropping a book in front of her. She looked up at him.

“Anatomy,” he explained shortly. “Learn it, then give it to Kankuro.”

She opened the book curiously, paging through. Their latest tutor had stormed out after Kankuro spent an hour dropping things on his head, and she and Kankuro had been spending their extra hours training together.

One resigned-looking Jounin had been hauling them out on low-level, D-rank missions, but those were infrequent, and the unpredictable schedule was annoying. Temari often ended up with too much time to herself. She enjoyed learning, and so had been lapping up every book in the house, in between begging for time with her father.

“Yashamaru,” Rasa stayed near the table, one hand resting on it close to Temari. “I have business to attend to at the daimyo’s estate. Keep Gaara under control here. I’m taking Temari and Kankuro with me for the experience,” Rasa explained. “We shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

Temari lifted her head up from her studies. “Where are we going?”

“To the River Country border,” Rasa replied. “We leave early in the morning. You can sit in on the meetings, and talk to the River daimyo’s daughter. She’s eight. Your age, Temari.”

“Cool.” Maybe they would make friends.

“Apparently she can be difficult,” Rasa continued, narrowing his eyes at his daughter. “I’m sure you’ll have lots in common.”

Temari shrugged one shoulder, unfazed. “Whatever. We’ll be ready in the morning.”

She and Kankuro traded looks. He was grinning, excited at the prospect of going somewhere new. She smiled back at him. A trip sounded fun.

 

Temari and Kankuro left the village frequently, for training, for basic missions under Jounin guidance, just because they wanted to, but they had never been farther than the seemingly endless desert.

Finding grassland was exciting. Kankuro slashed enthusiastically at the grass with a kunai, while Temari lagged, kneeling down in it and poking her fingers into the soil. It felt different from sand.

“Temari,” Rasa called her. “Don’t fall behind.”

“I’m not behind.” She skipped to catch up, bumping shoulders with Kankuro, and he nudged her back with a grin. He pulled a long stalk of grass seeds out the ground, shaking it in front of him as they walked.

They reached the treeline, and Kankuro immediately started throwing shuriken, cutting leaves off with shocking precision, and catching them as they fell.

Temari ran a hand across the trunk of a tree. The bark felt smoother than it looked, and she stopped to look at it more closely, ignoring the exasperated sighs of the Anbu around her. She wondered how different it would be to fix her chakra to the tree instead of to sand.

Kankuro beat her to it, launching himself at a tree branch. He wobbled a bit, almost falling over, crouching to anchor himself with one hand. Temari watched him, feeling a sudden spark of confidence. She jumped up after him, sliding slightly on the wood until she figured out how much chakra was needed for decent traction.

Kankuro hopped from tree branch to tree branch, with one Anbu trailing him wearily, trying to flank him and keep him in formation.

Temari stood up, looking down at the ground, and, in a rare moment of frivolity, tipped forwards as though to fall. She kept her chakra locked onto the tree, and ended up hanging upside down, giggling at the rushing feeling of falling.

Rasa walked underneath her, looking up at the sound of her laughter.

He stopped to regard her, his frown meeting her bright smile. Her expression didn’t falter, and Rasa shook his head slightly, continuing to walk past.

“Don’t get left behind,” he said gruffly. “The estate isn’t far from here. We’ll reach it before nightfall.”

Kankuro thunked down on the branch above her. “Move, Tem, I wanna race.”

There was a loud, resigned sigh from one of the Anbu guards. Temari climbed up to be level with Kankuro.

“Cool,” she said, grinning at him. “Let’s go!”

 

The Daimyo mansion sat on a large, well-manicured estate near the River and Wind country borders, that Temari and Kankuro explored together. They arrived early morning, and spent as much of the day as they could checking out the gardens and trotting around the mansion until Rasa tracked them down for meetings.

It was the first time Temari was seeing the lessons she had learnt put into action, and it interested her. She listened to the political debates, sat close to Rasa’s elbow to study the maps and memos that were passed around. Kankuro slumped in his seat, bored, but she lapped up the atmosphere, the negotiations, the strategizing and compromising.

It was thrilling in a different way to fighting, and she liked thinking through the problems that were presented.

When the meetings were over, Rasa gave her an approving pat on the head, and she smirked at Kankuro, because he had received nothing. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she snorted inelegantly under her breath, trailing behind Rasa as they walked through the mansion.

“The River princess will meet you now,” Rasa explained. “She’ll show you where you’ll be staying for the night, while I finish some private business. I’ll see you both for dinner in a few hours.”

Temari nodded, “Okay.”

Kankuro edged closer to her, pointing further down the hall. “That must be her, then?”

There was a young girl waiting primly in the centre of the hall, and Rasa stopped, ushering the siblings on ahead, body angled to go down another corridor.

With her head up proudly, Temari marched up to the girl, confidence still riding high from Rasa’s praise.

The River princess was petite and pretty, with a light pink sundress on and her long hair neatly braided, and Temari took an instant dislike to her. _Stupid princess with stupid perfect hair._

She smiled sweetly at Temari, executing a perfectly practiced curtsy that made Temari want to slap her. Her nails were perfectly manicured, with pink polish on them, and Temari unconsciously moved her fingers, the nail of her thumb moving to dig dirt out from under her ring finger. There was always dirt under her nails. That was part of Suna.

The princess looked so clean. With her perfectly even skin, and Temari looked away, trying to ignore how her own skin had variations and dozens of tan lines and one white scar that wasn’t fading as fast as she had hoped.

“Good evening,” she said. “I’m Uzuri. I’ll show you to your rooms.” She smiled prettily as well. All straight, white teeth.

Kankuro grinned back, gap-toothed and grotesque, and the princess recoiled ever so slightly.

“Follow me,” she said, sending him a terribly false, patronizing smile.

Temari rolled her eyes, muttering to her brother, “She’s a bitch.”

“Jealous?”

“No.”

They followed without further conversation, and Temari’s glare was boring holes in the back of the princess’s head. Kankuro ambled at her side, amused at Temari’s reaction.

The princess finally stopped in a long hallway, spinning gracefully to face them. “Dinner will be in the big dining hall, which is to the left. Do you need me to show you where it is?”

“We’ll find it,” Temari said shortly. She blew her bangs from her face with one huffing breath, still glaring daggers. Her glare increased when the princess looked her up and down, not making any secret of the fact.

“You _sure_ you’re Suna’s princess?” the girl asked, giving her a doubtful look. “Your hair is so messy. Doesn’t look very good.”

“Looks like I actually work, and don’t just spend all day prancing around in pink dresses looking pretty,” Temari growled.

“Well,” Uzuri shrugged, and Kankuro stiffened slightly, anticipating trouble, “You can borrow a dress if you like. You could spend the day prancing then – but I don’t think even my dresses will make you look pretty.”

Common sense threw itself helpfully out of the window, and Temari launched herself at Uzuri, with a snarl and hands outstretched, ready to yank her stupid, perfect hair until she had ripped it all out. The princess retaliated with high pitched screams, and Temari had her fingers clenched in those infuriatingly neat, long locks when Kankuro grabbed her arm and pulled her off.

“Let me go,” she snapped, aiming a kick at his shin.

He let go instantly, taking a step back. “Okay.”

“Bitch,” Uzuri shrieked, jumping at her again, perfectly manicured nails poised and ready for a fight.

Kankuro moved swiftly away from the skirmish, jerking his head back as fists flew. He wondered if he was meant to be cheering for Temari or not. Unsure of the correct response, he just shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and waiting out the fight.

Temari had the obvious advantage in both strength and finesse, having been raised to be a warrior as opposed to, in her opinion, a prissy little princess who had no idea what a real fight was. It meant she could knock Uzuri on her ass in less than a second, although she didn’t go down without a fight.

Uzuri was quick to react, her stupidly manicured nails slashing wildly at whatever parts of Temari were closest.

Temari pulled one arm back and landed a punch firmly on Uzuri’s face, before being stopped by a sharp, familiar voice.

“Temari!”

She froze in place, and the princess took that opportunity to land an elbow in her eye. Temari staggered back a step, but didn’t go in for another attack, only because Rasa was staring sternly down at her.

Uzuri, seeing an opportunity arise to garner sympathy, immediately burst into tears and wailed, “She _attacked_ me! I didn’t even _do_ anything!”

“Cry baby,” Temari muttered, rubbing her eye. It stung. She could feel it starting to swell. Her arm was suddenly jerked aside, and she hissed at the sudden pain as Rasa yanked her towards him. His grip was hard and painful. “Dad-“

“Quiet,” he ordered, marching down the hall. Temari stumbled to keep up, growling under her breath. She heard the princess snicker behind her, and tried to twist around and launch at her once again.

Rasa lifted his arm, picking Temari up off the floor completely, thwarting any attempt at moving on her own. She kicked furiously, dangled in the air, and clipped Kankuro’s shoulder with a foot.

Rasa pushed a door open and dropped her suddenly. “This is your room.”

She rubbed her arm, easing the sting where he had held her, scowling at him. Kankuro stood at her side, still grinning from the whole ordeal.

“You can stay in here until we leave.” Rasa made to close the door.

“I don’t want to,” Temari huffed.

“Temari, do not test me. Stay here. Kankuro, keep an eye on her.”

“Yes, Dad,” Kankuro shrugged, and Rasa slammed the door. Temari glared at it for a bit before moving across the room to hop onto the bed.

Temari sulked on the edge of her bed, arms crossed and posture hunched.

Kankuro sat close to her, beaming.

“Starting to think you won’t have a future in diplomacy,” Kankuro grinned. “Maybe foreign relations with other villages shouldn’t go onto your resume.”

“If,” Temari said darkly, glowering at him with one eye, “We ever have friendly relations with other villages I’ll be sure to not volunteer as ambassador.”

“Seems for the best,” Kankuro replied airily. “You’d do the opposite of what was needed.”

“She was asking for it,” Temari defended. “She was the problem, not me.”

“Sure about that?”

“Piss off,” she snapped, turning her back to him.

“You’ve got a scratch on the back of your neck.”

She knew. She had a few, they were stinging now that her adrenaline had died down. She went moodily towards the mirror, squinting at her face.

She wasn’t pretty like Uzuri, and it didn’t bother her, but it _bothered_ her. She didn’t know what she wanted from herself. But no one ever said nice things about how she looked, no one ever complimented her and meant it. All she got was jeers from men in Suna, insults from the boys, wariness from everyone.

Her hair was wind-wild and uncontrollable. She knew Rasa hated it, and she wished she could change it sometimes. “I hate my hair.”

“So does Dad,” Kankuro replied blandly, flopping onto his back and spreading his arms wide on the bed.

“Princesses are supposed to be pretty.” She frowned at herself, rubbing her cheek with one hand. She looked back at Kankuro.

He snorted, “Maybe you’re not s’posed to be a princess.”

“Then what?” she asked, returning to the bed to stare at him.

“Dunno. You’re a shinobi. Maybe that’s the most important part of who you are.”

“Maybe.” She stared at him for a while, before nudging his ribs. “Move over.”

“Why? There’s another bed.”

“I wanna lie with you for a bit.”

Kankuro sighed dramatically, making a show of shuffling up. “Happy now?”

“No.” But she lay down anyway, their shoulders touching, and stared at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Kankuro said after a while, “If you’re too ugly to be a princess-“

“Hey!”

“- You could always be someone who beats up princesses. You seem good at that.”

She hit him squarely in the stomach, and he erupted into laughter. It was infectious – his laughter always was – and within minutes the two of them were shaking helplessly, snorting and chortling, and completely forgetting the trouble Temari had got herself into.

 

 


	5. Beautiful Storms

Their journey home was delayed by a storm. Temari lay awake for most of the night, listening to the wind howl. It rattled windows and thrilled her, and by the time morning came she was bright eyed and ready to see what had become of the world while under the command of the wind.

She skipped ahead of her father and Kankuro, darting around as more and more of the landscape was revealed. The Anbu guards scurried to keep up with her, trying to herd her back into formation. She ignored them; there was too much to see to care about their agenda.

The wind had torn up entire trees, changed the landscape, moved everything to its will except the sturdy mountains.

Temari stared in awe. Such ferocity, such power, to be able to move the world around you.

She wanted that.

She wanted that invincibility, that invulnerability, the devastating power to take on whatever came at her. She wanted to feel as fearless as a wind, to never again have to worry about people around her.

“Dad,” she said softly, running a hand across a splintered tree trunk.

Rasa strode past her, not acknowledging her.

“Teach me . . . to do this?”

He grunted. “It won’t be easy.”

“I don’t care. I want to move the wind.” She ran to catch up with him. “Kankuro has his puppets. I want the wind.” It was free and powerful, it _dominated_ , and that grabbed her attention.

“Hm,” Rasa glanced down at her. “We’ll start training when we get home. You’re also grounded.”

Her strides faltered. “Why?”

“’ _Why’_? Temari, don’t play with me. You attacked a princess.”

“I didn’t!” She stayed close to him. “She started it!”

His glare silenced all further protests, and Temari fell silent, steps slowing until she was at the back of the group. Kankuro looked back at her, head tilted quizzically. She sniffed, jerking her head away.

_Fine_ , she thought. _I’ll be grounded, even though it’s unfair and I didn’t do anything wrong._

When they returned home, Rasa let her know she wasn’t to go anywhere alone until he allowed it again, and Yashamaru would keep an eye on her in between taking care of Gaara. She accepted it begrudgingly, and endured a lecture that felt hours long on proper behaviour, most of which she tuned out because she knew it all, she just didn’t feel like behaving.

It was roughly a week into her grounding, when she grew excruciatingly bored. Kankuro had left early in the morning, paint slathered on his face, dragging a puppet behind him as he wandered out with a sandwich between his teeth, and Temari was lamenting being alone for the day.

Temari had gathered her notes and books, prepared to spend the morning catching up with her studying – she wasn’t behind, but she liked to do well and be informed. Since Kankuro was out training with the puppeteers – he didn’t know when he was coming home - and she wasn’t allowed out the house alone, she was feeling lonely.

She had set everything out at the kitchen table, so she could look out the window, and was staring thoughtfully at the sky when Rasa came through the kitchen. He studied her for a minute.

“Temari?”

“Hm?” she turned her attention to him.

“Are you alone today?”

“Yeah. Kankuro’s out training, and Yashamaru and Gaara are doing something together. I was gonna study.” She shrugged, desperately wishing Kankuro was there. It was exhausting being lonely.

“Bring your things,” Rasa said gruffly. “Spend the day with me.”

She lit up, a grin cracking across her face. “Really? I can come with you to the office?”

He nodded shortly.

She worked to suppress an excited squeal, suddenly overjoyed at the prospect. A whole day with just her and her father? That was a rarity that almost never happened. Swiftly, she gathered her things together, tucking all her books under one arm and skipping to Rasa’s side as they left the house. They were halfway to the Kazekage building when she summoned the courage to reach for his hand.

He looked down at her sharply, and her carefree gaze faltered a fraction. She looked down at the sand, cheeks burning. She expected him to shake his hand free from hers, but he didn’t. He allowed her nervous grip, and she grinned at the ground.

Today was going to be a good day.

 

Rasa’s work was mostly silent that day. A few people had been in and out the office that morning, with questions and reports, and she had listened to them curiously, gathering knowledge.

Now, Temari sat quietly in the corner, with her knees drawn up and her book propped on them, frowning over the pages. Trying to wrap her head around some of the trade routes and treaties was frustrating, and she hated it. Far more interesting was learning about the origins of jutsu, and the other places the world had to offer.

But, the mantle of Kazekage would go to her or Kankuro, and she needed to be prepared.

She grew bored easily, eventually letting out a deep sigh and looking over at her father. He had not moved, hunched over his desk, seemingly disinterested in her presence. She watched him for a bit, and was startled when he suddenly asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She averted her gaze. She asked softly, “What are you working on?”

“Nothing that would interest you.” Rasa sounded dismissive.

It _would_ interest her, though, because anything was more interesting than sitting in agonizing silence. _Notice me_ , she thought, putting her books aside and continuing to just stare at Rasa. _Pay attention to me._

After a few more minutes, he glanced at her again, studying her hopeful expression. His face softened a bit.

“Come on, then,” Rasa said. “If you really want to. It’s boring, though. Just the trade routes.”

“I don’t mind.” They could have been watching paint dry and she wouldn’t mind – getting time with her father was rare. Getting soft, gentle time with him was even rarer. She hopped onto his lap with a giggle, feeling childishly free and excited.

“This is our main route here,” Rasa explained, one hand on the map and one hand around Temari’s middle to hold her in place. “Which is the one we need to keep clear, because it’s the most important.”

“That feeds most of Suna,” she added, waiting for approval.

“Yes.” Rasa patted her stomach slightly. “We have a lot of trouble there with rogue shinobi attacking supply parties. I’ve sent a team out again to escort the supply caravan through.” He studied the map thoughtfully. “When you’re older, I can send you out there to help.”

_Help protect and feed the village_ , Temari thought. There was a growing flare of pride in her chest that he thought she was capable of it. It sparked a flash of inspiration in her, and she resolved to do better in her training, to become a more powerful shinobi, one able to protect and help Suna. Good enough to protect the village, good enough to please her father.

“You’ll have to be strong,” he added. “The people you’ll meet are not to be taken lightly.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Temari.” He sounded serious. “It’s not easy. These are not people who will hold back because of who you are. They will do whatever they can to break through you. They will kill you without a second thought, and you need to be able to do the same to them.”

She thought about the man in alley. “I can do that.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, and her heart thrilled.

She bit her lower lip, hard, to stop herself grinning like a fool. Protecting the village pleased him, doing things for the village gained his approval. She made a mental note of the fact. Performance mattered. Achievements mattered. Being better than everyone else mattered. _Being willing to kill mattered so, so much . . ._

Rasa felt her squirm in his lap, and tightened his grip around her middle. “Sit still, there’s more to learn.”

“Okay,” she whispered, still trying not to grin too much. She took a few calming breaths. “Where are the other trade routes?”

Rasa gave her an approving squeeze, and continued, showing her the lines on the map, explaining what came from where. She absorbed it all, repeating facts back, memorizing others. When Rasa had finished explaining things, he allowed her to stay where she was, sitting on his lap, as he signed papers and checked mission reports.

She leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh.

When he finally had to leave the office to attend a meeting, she stayed in his chair, looking around, and wondering what it would be like to have all this as hers one day.

She collected her books from the corner, and spent the rest of the afternoon studying at Rasa’s desk.

 

Gaara was sitting outside on the windowsill when she came home one day, staring at the ground.

Temari glanced around, before approaching him. “Hey, Gaara. What’re you doing?”

“Dad said to stay here,” Gaara answered blandly.

That seemed . . . odd. Temari frowned. “Why?”

Gaara shrugged. “Just have to stay here for a bit.”

She hesitated. The sun was setting, sending long shadows across the ground, and everything felt strange and dangerous. She didn’t feel comfortable leaving him. But he smiled sweetly at her, perfectly content warming with the last of the sunshine, and stirring sand in absent patterns.

She went inside, lingering in the doorway to look at him.

“Temari,” Rasa was home already, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re late.”

She didn’t try to make an excuse, just shrugged.

“Go to your room. Supper will be late tonight.”

“Gaara’s outside alone.”

Rasa’s expression didn’t change. He stared her down, and Temari fought the urge to shrink back. She kept her chin up, meeting his eyes defiantly.

“Go to your room,” Rasa repeated.

It sounded like he was trying to get rid of her. She hesitated again, unsure. Silently, she began to obey, slinking past him. She didn’t get far – hand on the wall, ready to turn the corner – when there was a sudden shriek from outside.

She whipped around. “Is that Gaara?”

She dashed back towards the door. Rasa caught her with one arm, scooping her off the floor before she could reach out. Her fingers just brushed the door, heartbeat ramping up as the noises outside increased – shouts from other people, sudden agonized screaming, Gaara crying –

“Dad,” she squirmed. “People are after Gaara!”

“Stay here.” His voice was low, unsurprised, as though he knew this was going to happen.

Temari tried to see outside. There was a flash of sand at the window, just a sudden wave of it, then a splatter of blood hit the glass. Her breath caught in her throat, and she grappled at Rasa’s arm, trying to pry it away from her stomach. “ _Dad_!”

Rasa pulled her closer, his other hand closing around one of her wrists to stop her violent squirming. He blocked the view with his body, and all Temari could see was his chest. “Leave him, Temari.”

“They’re trying to hurt him!” she shouted, trying to kick out of Rasa’s hold. She could hear Gaara crying – and he was just a tiny, helpless child, and she had to do something.

He kept her pressed against him firmly. “Stay still.”

“No, he’s my brother, I need to help him.”

There was a shudder that rocked the entire house, and she froze in place, heart hammering. Was it the monster?

“Dad,” her voice shuddered slightly.

“Just stay still.” Rasa gathered her up more firmly, lifting her up, but still carefully blocking her vision. He carried her to Kankuro’s room.

“Dad,” Kankuro came running. “Everything’s shaking and something’s roaring –“ He cut himself off, eyes growing wide as he noticed his sister cradled in Rasa’s arms. “Tem! You okay?”

“Both of you, stay in here,” Rasa said, setting Temari down. “Don’t come out until I call you. Understand?”

“Are you going to save Gaara?” Temari asked, tentatively.

Rasa’s expression was blank. He stared at her, eyes hard. Finally, he turned to leave, repeating flatly, “Stay here.”

Kankuro took a hesitant, half step after his father, before pausing. He edged to Temari instead. “Tem?”

“Someone’s after Gaara,” she whispered, trying to resist the urge to add ‘again’. “Dad must be going to help him.”

“What if the monster gets out?” Kankuro whispered back, voice shrinking down in fear.

Temari held his hand, raising her head. “I’ll protect you.”

There was a screech of sand rushing past the window, and Temari pulled Kankuro into a corner. They sat huddled together, arms wrapped around each other, until eventually the world outside grew quiet.

Temari couldn’t shake the thought that Rasa knew. That he knew someone was after Gaara, and he didn’t do anything about it. She pulled Kankuro closer, almost crushing him against her, because at least she could hold onto him and protect him.

She kept her shuddering breathing under control, tried to slow her hammering heart, and just hoped that Gaara was okay.

 

Several days later, Temari kicked her sandals off at the door, wiping a hand across her brow as she entered the house. She was sweaty and tired, but feeling satisfied from a day well spent. The thought of a nice, cool shower was appealing, and she gathered what she needed and headed to the bathroom.

Kankuro stuck his head in the bathroom before she had a chance to do much more than set her towel down.

“Taps aren’t working,” Kankuro said glumly. “Think we’re out of water.”

“Is the tank empty too?” Temari asked, checking for herself. She spun the basin faucet experimentally. Not even a drop escaped. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. She sighed. “We need rain.”

There went her leisurely shower. She would once again be forced to make do with a cloth and a bucket.

“Tank was empty last week,” Kankuro said. “And the pump isn’t working. I took a look at it, I think it’s broken. I’ll fix it soon.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “If you fetch water, I’ll make supper.”

“Where’s Yashamaru?”

“Took Gaara for a walk. He’s not been sleeping well since the . . . since the people tried to get him.” Temari could hear the unspoken ‘again’ that they both tried to avoid saying. Kankuro shifted uncomfortably. “Just fetch water.”

Temari sighed. “Fine. I’ll go get some,” she moved to the front door, slipping her sandals on, and grabbing a bucket near the door.

The night air was cool, and swept lightly around her as she stepped outside. She kept her eyes on the stars as she walked towards the well. She knew the route; it was one she had made many times, as water became increasingly rare, with taps running dry, and the water tanks lowering to near empty levels.

The old council building was opposite it, and she walked close to the walls where the sand was firmer and easier to stand on. Near the well, she paused, enjoying the quiet of the moment. She could see the Kazekage building, and the light on in Rasa’s office window.

The sand was still hot. She pushed her toes into it, feeling it bite at her skin.

Without much thought, she kicked at the ground a bit, swinging the bucket absently by the handle. A few moments later, she heard shouting, and her head snapped up. She backed up into a nearby doorway, using the shadows to hide, and looked towards the well.

Four boys were approaching it, yelling and laughing. Closer inspection showed they held someone else between them, another body writhing and screaming pleas. She kept her back pressed to the doorway, waiting to see what would happen.

The streets were silent and dark, with the exception of the jeering boys. They didn’t look much older than Temari, but the boy suspended between them was clearly younger. They laughed and jeered as they approached the well, and, without much ceremony and a lot of snorting, promptly lifted the smaller boy up, over the edge of the well wall, and dropped him.

There was a series of desperate echoing shouts as he fell, but the older boys just laughed, and shouted insults down the well, before moving away, pushing each other and punching at the air.

Temari stayed still, watching them leave, then turned her attention back to the well.

There was still screaming; helpless, resonating pleas.

She waited until she was certain everyone had left, then she crossed the sand, placed her elbows on the brick edge of the well, and peered down into it. “Do you need me to pull you out?”

“Yes!” the voice was desperate. “Help me, please! Please!”

“I’ll drop the bucket down. Grab on, and I’ll lift you out.” Part of her didn’t care if he drowned, but it seemed like helping was the right thing to do since she was right there. And every life counted for them, every ninja was needed. Letting one die on her watch was not something she wanted to do – this was her village, and his life was her responsibility.

She lowered the bucket, waiting until she heard a shaky voice from the black depths saying, “I’ve got it. Please pull me up.”

It was a bit of a strain, but Temari heaved the handle around and around, dragging the bucket up again. It took some time, and she was huffing out of breath by the time a boy’s head rose up above the edge of the well wall. She leant her weight back, holding the handle in place.

“You’re a girl,” he blurted out.

It took all Temari’s self-control not to let the handle go and watch the boy plummet back into the well. She tightened her grip. “Aren’t you just a _genius_?”

“I just . . . I didn’t think I’d ever be saved by a girl.” The boy’s apparently flawless self-preservation skills finally kicked in, and he grabbed the side of the well so Temari was no longer the only thing between him and drowning. “Boy’s shouldn’t be saved by girls.”

“I’ll happily throw you back down the well, and you can wait for a boy to come by and rescue you,” she snapped, muscles clenching slightly.

“No!” He blanched white, and scrambled over the wall, landing on the sand with a dull thud. He blinked up at her. His eyes were purple. Her favourite colour. “I’m Daimaru.”

“Temari.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Kazekage’s daughter?”

“Yeah?” she looked guarded.

“Oh.” He stared at the sand. After a pause, he added, “Thank you.”

She glared at him.

He got to his feet slowly; sand stuck to his clothes from the water. He took his time brushing himself off, then finally straightened up. “I should go home. I’ll see you around?” He sounded hopeful.

“Yeah, maybe.” She needed a friend. And she loved his eyes.

Daimaru offered her a quick smile, before sprinting off.

“By the way,” he shouted back, not slowing down, “You’re very pretty.”

She blinked at his retreating back, head tilted slightly. Then, she ducked her head, cheeks flushing, and a wide, genuine smile bloomed across her face.

 

 


	6. The Wind is Born

Less than a week later a dry thunderstorm swept across the village. Temari and Kankuro hunkered down together in her room, hidden under blankets and cuddled close on her bed. The wind screamed past the windows, sending electric thrills through Temari’s chest. The whole world felt wired and alive, in a tense and deadly way. It sparked alertness inside her, and she shivered against Kankuro, barely able to stay still.

“It’ll go away,” he murmured, casting a sneer at the ceiling when another boom of thunder shook the house. “Dumb storm.”

“Did you hear that?” Temari asked sharply, head towards the door.

“Hear what?”

“That. It sounds like screaming.”

“It’s the wind.”

Temari climbed to the floor, pattering to the door and laying her ear against it.

“Temari, come back to bed. It’s not screaming-“ Kankuro had barely finished the sentence when a terrific shriek cut through the air. Temari whipped around as a shadow flew past the window.

“That’s sand,” she whispered, colour draining from her face. “It’s the monster . . .”

“It’s not,” Kankuro whispered back, frozen in place. “It’s not, because Yashamaru won’t let it come out . . .”

The sand came past again, and Temari grabbed Kankuro’s wrist, yanking him off the bed and into the adjoining bathroom. She slammed the door closed, pulling him into a corner with her. The screaming was unmistakable now.

“Don’t move,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything.”

They sat together, quiet and trembling slightly, as the thundercracks and lightning bursts continued, and the sound of the wind was occasionally cut with the sound of a desperate, dying scream.

When the storm died down there was nothing but silence. They still didn’t move, waiting until they were certain nothing was going to happen, before Temari cautiously opened the bathroom door. The house was silent. There was nothing but shadows.

“Come on,” she said softly. “We can sleep now. It’s fine.”

Kankuro let out a shaky breath. “Maybe we should take turns.”

“Is that Gaara?” Temari asked, freezing in place. “Is he crying?”

Kankuro strained to listen. There was a faint sound of sobbing. “Yeah. Maybe he’s scared of the storm.”

“Yashamaru should be with him.”

They stood undecided. Gaara’s crying continued.

“Should we . . .” Kankuro hesitated. “Should we go to him?”

Temari didn’t know how to answer. “I . . . No? Maybe? Yashamaru will be with him. He’ll be fine.”

“He doesn’t sound fine.”

They waited in silence for the other one to make the first move.

“You go,” Temari said finally.

“Come with me.”

Temari shook her head. “I’m not going out when the monster might be there.”

Kankuro stared at the door. “Let’s get back into bed. It’ll be safe there.”

They stood undecided again, before Temari grabbed Kankuro’s hand and dragged him to her bed. They huddled in, backs together, so they could see the entire room. The wind picked up again, and Temari found, as always, that her heart pounded in time with the gusts.

Kankuro fell asleep eventually, but Temari found it difficult to settle.

She listened to Gaara cry for hours.

 

Unusually, Gaara was sitting alone in the morning, in a corner of the kitchen. Rasa was there, making coffee.

Temari came in quietly, looking for breakfast, with Kankuro trailing her, one hand in the back of her shirt as a guide. The restless night had left him overtired and barely functioning.

Wordlessly, Temari cut a few slices of bread from the thick loaf that sat on the counter and absently toasted them. There wasn’t much to add. Butter was a long-forgotten memory, and she sat Kankuro down at the table so she could climb onto the counter beside Rasa to reach the cupboard with the jam in it.

Rasa handed her the jar, not looking at her. She sat on the counter with the jam clutched in her hands, watching him while the bread toasted.

Rasa sat down with his coffee, and Gaara came from the corner to sit next to Kankuro.

“Stay inside today,” Rasa said. “I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Where’s Yashamaru?” Kankuro asked, noting the conspicuous absence of their uncle. Gaara shrunk a bit closer to his brother.

Rasa glared at him. “Stay inside.”

Temari and Kankuro exchanged looks, but they didn’t speak. She hopped off the counter, and finished making breakfast. As an afterthought, she put half a slice of toast in front of Gaara as well. He took it from her with a shy smile, and she smiled back at him, for the first time in a while.

The rest of the day was not as easy.

Temari found she couldn’t stay still for long. After the wind had been howling all night, making her pulse race and blood pump, she was too wrought up to just sit and do nothing.

Once Rasa left, she moved to the windows at the front door, looking outside to see the way the wind had changed the village. It made her excited, and she leaned against the glass, misting it slightly with her breath and just wanting to be out there with it.

A small voice interrupted her musings.

“Dad said to stay inside,” Gaara spoke softly. “You can’t go out.”

Kankuro had taken the news of stay inside to mean ‘don’t get out of bed’ and had emerged from his room only to grab food. But Temari was restless and awake, and didn’t want to stay inside.

“Leave me alone, Gaara,” she said, wandering from window to window. “I can do what I want.”

He was a persistent little shadow, following her from room to room. She tried to ignore him, keeping her back to him when she could. He insisted on staying close to her, trying to seek comfort in her company, but she wasn’t in the mood to give it to him.

From one of the top windows, movement in the street below caught her eye, and she paused.

There were people down below, running together in haphazard patterns. She could hear their voices, muffled but unmistakably cheerful. Daimaru was one of them, and her face lit up as she watched him play with a group of boys that she presumed were his friends.

Without much thought, she ran out the house to join them. She hadn’t seen Daimaru since she had pulled him out of the well, and she wanted to talk to him.

She pushed past Gaara, pointedly ignoring him as she skipped outside. “Daimaru!”

At the sound of her voice, the playing came to an abrupt halt, every boy freezing in place and looking at her suspiciously. Undeterred by their sudden silence, she approached, smiling brightly. “Hi. Can I play too?”

Silence again. A few of the boys shifted positions, trading glances. Their smiles vanished, and Temari felt hers do the same. Why wouldn’t they speak to her?

“We don’t play with girls,” one of the boys said. There was a smudge of dirt on his nose. Temari wanted to punch him, hackles rising at his words.

She looked to Daimaru, waiting. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his friends, then at her. Eventually, he muttered, “Girls are gross.”

That earned a chorus of agreement from the boys around him, and, bolstered by their approval, he raised his head and spoke more boldly. “We don’t like girls.”

“Especially not you,” another chimed in.

Temari’s eyes narrowed. There was a coil of white-hot anger burning in her stomach. She didn’t understand – she’d saved him, and he’d been nice to her, and he’s said she was pretty and now he didn’t want anything to do with her? It didn’t make sense, and it made her angry.

“Yeah, your family are monsters and we don’t want to be near you.”

She didn’t care who said that, she was too busy staring Daimaru down.

He shifted again.

“Girls are ugly,” one boy nudged Daimaru in the shoulder. “Right?” They chortled and twittered amongst themselves, and Temari clenched both hands into fists.

“Yeah, you’re ugly,” Daimaru blurted, looking at the sand and not at her.

And that was all she was willing to hear.

With one feral scream of frustration, Temari launched herself at Daimaru, taking him completely by surprise. Her knees hit the hot sand on either side of his ribs, hands around his throat, ignoring his hands as he flailed, hitting her in the arms, the face, the sides.

She sat back enough to keep her face out of range of his hands, letting go of his throat to punch him in the face. Once, twice, she didn’t care how often. He was kicking and screaming, trying to claw her off him. She just kept hitting him, over and over, until she was suddenly lifted off him by firm hands under her armpits. She kicked out defiantly, until Rasa’s voice sounded around her.

“Temari. Stop that.”

She stopped kicking, going limp in his grasp. Rasa put her down, placing a hand on her head in case he needed to hold her back. She glared at Daimaru.

He lay whimpering on the ground, nose bleeding and face starting to swell. The other kids backed away, giving wary glances at their Kazekage.

Temari wiped her hand across her nose and shook her head, trying to dislodge her father’s hand from atop her head. His fingers tightened in her hair. She waited for him to start yelling at her, but he stayed silent. After a moment, he turned, using his grip in her hair to drag her with him. Temari followed his lead, stumbling slightly, finally noticing that Rasa was not alone.

Gaara was behind him, tiny fist clenched uncertainly into Rasa’s robes. So Gaara must have been the one to call him. Temari sniffed.

Once home, Rasa let her go. “Go to your room.”

She stayed stubbornly still.

“I said,” Rasa repeated firmly. “Go to your room.”

Gaara’s big eyes darted between them. Temari remained rooted to the spot, arms crossed and staring defiantly at her father.

Rasa’s expression darkened. “I told you to stay inside. Why were you out, and why were you attacking boys?”

She seethed silently, anger ready and rising.

“Temari!”

“Because I’m _angry_ ,” she screamed. “You never pay any attention to me, and no one likes me, and no one wants to be friends with me. All I have is Kankuro, and Suna hates us!” She clenched her fists again, wanting to hit something.

Rasa glared at her. “You will be a shinobi of the Sand, you don’t need friends for that.”

“I _want_ friends,” she snapped. “I don’t care what you say.”

She wanted _something_ , and she didn’t know what. Someone to pay attention to her, someone to notice her, someone who would just be around when she wanted someone around.

There was a tense silence, with Gaara creeping away from them.

Temari expected Rasa to start yelling. She expected shouting, and she was ready to match him scream for scream, until he raised one arm in an abrupt movement. Instinctively, she flinched, anticipating a strike. When his hand closed tightly around her upper arm, she tried to pull away.

“Let me go!” she shouted.

Grim faced and silent, Rasa began walking swiftly across the house, half dragging Temari along with him. She pounded at his hand with her other fist, trying to bash his arm loose. When hitting didn’t work, she contorted her body to attempt to bite him. Before her teeth could meet flesh, Rasa shook her roughly. “Temari!”

“ _Let go!_ ” A kick connected with Rasa’s shin.

The next thing Temari knew she was hurled through her bedroom door, where she failed to catch herself and landed in a heap. She sprang upright almost immediately, face stuck in a snarl.

Rasa took the key from inside her lock and without saying a word slammed the door. Instantly, Temari was upon it, yanking at the handle, screaming whatever came to mind.

Rasa locked the door, standing outside for a moment to listen to Temari kicking and shouting.

Kankuro peered out his room, wide eyed and wondering what was happening. “Uh . . . is everything alright?”

“Stay away from her,” Rasa said warningly. “You are not to speak to her or do anything with her until I say so. Understand?”

Kankuro nodded hesitantly.

“Do not open this door,” he added.

“Okay . . .” Kankuro stared, baffled by the sound of his sister still screaming. There were muffled thumps as she, presumably, kicked and punched at the door. Rasa’s expression was enough to cause Kankuro to shrink back into his room, all his questions dying in his throat.

Kankuro retreated back to his puppets, and within a few minutes, Gaara crept to his door.

“Can I sit with you?” he whispered, clutching the door frame. He cast a nervous glance in the direction of Temari’s door, wincing at yet another thud.

It sounded distinctly like an object hitting the door.

“Yeah,” Kankuro said. “Come sit down. Don’t touch anything, you might hurt yourself.”

“Is Temari okay?” Gaara asked, coming to sit by Kankuro’s knee.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Don’t mind her. She gets angry easily.”

“Is she angry at me?”

_She wouldn’t dare_ , Kankuro thought. _You’d tear her apart_. “No. Just at Dad.”

Gaara winced at the sound of something smashing through a window.

Kankuro sighed. “Man, she’s really throwing a fit in there.” He kept half an eye on Gaara, wary of Temari’s tantrum exciting him. Gaara looked anxious, but not dangerous, and Kankuro kept him close by for the rest of the day, keeping his attention on the puppets, and away from any thoughts he didn’t want Gaara to have.

It was a surprisingly nice afternoon.

Even with Temari hollering in the background.

 

Rasa lifted his head as there was a short, sharp knock on the door of the Kazekage office.

“Enter,” he said gruffly.

A man entered, expression stern.

“Baki,” Rasa nodded to him. “Thank you for coming.”

“You said you needed me urgently?” Baki was well-known in Suna, as a skilled Jounin and exceptional commander.

“I want to give you a new team,” Rasa shuffled a few papers, before turning his full attention to Baki. “Temari and Kankuro. They’ve outgrown all suitable teachers, and can be difficult to handle. I need someone to get them sorted out and on the road to being actual shinobi, and not just hooligans.”

“With all due respect, Kazekage-sama,” Baki said slowly, weighing his words, “I’m not equipped nor inclined to wrangle out of control children.”

“With Suna the way it is now, you don’t have a choice. We need them. The survival of this village depends on every single shinobi doing more than they would normally. They are capable and well-trained. Use them.”

Baki stood stoically. “I understand. But I won’t be gentle with them.”

“I should hope not,” Rasa frowned, anger bubbling up. “I can’t have two of them out of control,” Rasa spat. “Since Yashamaru was stupid enough to get himself killed, Gaara’s been getting harder to handle. I don’t need Temari being worse than him. Make her work, _hard_ , and don’t let her get out of hand.”

Rasa took a few deep breaths. “You can meet them in a few days. Kankuro can be stubborn, and over-confident, but he’s a skilled puppeteer. He needs motivation. Temari . . .” Rasa pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll sort her out. Somehow.”

 

Temari lay on her bed, feet over the edge and kicking idly at the mattress. She stared at the ceiling, wondering how much of the day was going to pass in silence. Part of her wanted to leave her room and go to Kankuro’s, in pure defiance, but another part of her was grateful for the peace. It gave her time to think.

She hoped Daimaru had two black eyes and a broken nose.

She turned her head when the door opened.

“Temari.” Rasa stood in her doorway. “Come with me.”

With some level of reluctance, Temari sat up and got off her bed. She trailed behind her father as he led her downstairs, into the kitchen. There was a long, canvas blanket on the table, looking as though it hid a rectangular shape.

“This is yours.” Rasa unfolded the blanket, revealing a folded iron fan. “You’ll learn how to use it properly. Any time you feel the need to beat up boys, I want you to train with this instead.”

“Wouldn’t beat them up if they weren’t assholes,” she muttered.

“I’ve found someone to teach you. You’ll start tomorrow.” He didn’t give her any more information than that.

Temari stayed at the edge of the table as Rasa left. She reached out a hand, running it along the cool metal of the fan. It was dark and smooth. She moved to lift it up, grunting slightly at the weight. It was surprisingly heavy, sturdy and present in a way she hadn’t expected.

She struggled to open it, finding it stiff and almost immovable. Finally, after a few minutes of straining and prying, she focused her chakra into her hands and onto the fan, and it snapped open in one powerful motion, almost startling her off her feet.

She stared at it in wonderment. It felt so strong in her hands. She was filled with a sudden sense of security.

No one, _nothing_ , would hurt her with this at her side.

 

 


	7. Distances and Challenges

“Temari, Kankuro,” Rasa had placed them in his office. “This is Baki. He’s going to take you two out on missions and supervise your training from now on.”

The siblings stared at him. He looked hard and unfriendly.

“You’ll start taking proper missions outside of the village from now. You’ve spent enough time in here honing your skills.”

“Teams are meant to be threes,” Temari pointed out. “And Karasu doesn’t count.”

Kankuro stuck his tongue out at her, and Temari returned the gesture.

“Gaara will join you when he’s a little older.” Rasa ignored the way both children stiffened in place. Since Yashamaru had ‘disappeared’, Gaara had been growing increasingly sullen and snappy. Temari and Kankuro were constantly worried the monster would come for them, unprovoked, and they avoided Gaara when they could. “Do what Baki says, and stay out of trouble. Temari.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“That means you.”

“Kankuro gets in trouble too.”

“Yes. For things like scaring the help and terrorizing children. But he doesn’t beat the shit out of every boy who looks at him funny.” Rasa’s expression was stern. “Baki will be giving me frequent reports on your behaviour. One more thing.”

Both children waited.

“I know you’ve been taking missions in the village. But now that you’ll be going outside, you’ll need these.” He pulled a shallow wooden box from a drawer and placed it on the desk before them.

Kankuro reached out to open it, picking up the first forehead protector. He turned it over in his hands, studying it from every angle.

“Once you put those on, everyone knows who you are. You are Suna shinobi. You will act with the good of this village at the forefront of your mind. Whatever you do from now on out will be to make this a better place and to promise it a better future. One of you will lead this village one day. The moment you put those on, your paths are set in stone.”

He looked from one to the other, starting with Kankuro, “You are the Prince,” his gaze slid to Temari, “And my Princess. Raise this village up. Its future rests with you.”

Kankuro nodded solemnly. Temari took the second forehead protector from the box, looking at the gleaming metal. It was bright and new, not a single scratch on it. She touched her fingers gently against the symbol on it, and when she withdrew her hand, her fingerprints lingered on the metal.

She smudged one, before following Kankuro’s lead as he lifted the cloth up and tied it securely around his head. She pushed her bangs back with one hand to do the same, and they both faced Rasa, expressions sombre and ready.

“Follow me,” Baki said gruffly. “We start working now.”

 

“Temari, control that thing!” Kankuro yelped, ducking as Temari’s fan swung over his head and landed harmlessly in the sand behind him. He sat down, somewhat relieved that it was out of his sister’s hands.

“I’m trying,” she pointed out. “It’s _heavy_ and takes a lot of chakra. I’ll get the hang of it soon.”

“I’ll be dead before you get the hang of it. You’ve nearly killed me twice.” He pouted. “You broke my puppet.”

“It’s a fight, Kankuro,” she rolled her eyes, stalking across the sand to retrieve her fan. “Weapons get broken sometimes.” The weight of the fan still threw her balance off. It didn’t feel natural yet. It felt like a strange, cumbersome object. She hefted it up, muscles straining slightly.

Kankuro backed away. “Want to try again?”

“Let’s take a break.” The sun was baking hot.

Their private training ground offered no shade, and her clothes were sticking to her with sweat. She glanced up at the sun, checking the time and position, and jammed her fan into the ground to create a patch of shade. She sat down in it, knees to her chest.

Kankuro came to sit beside her, dragging his puppet with him and grumbling. “Just fixed this last week.”

“You got water?” she asked.

“No.” Kankuro squinted at the sky. “It’s early still. We could go to the well.”

“Temari, Kankuro,” Baki’s voice interrupted. He strode across the sand to them. “Weren’t you two meant to be training?”

“We have been,” Kankuro answered.

“We’re taking a break,” Temari added.

He nodded. “I’ll spar with you both this afternoon. Now that you two are under my care, missions are going to get harder. You can’t afford to slack off, or be soft.”

“We’re not,” Kankuro muttered.

“We can handle whatever you throw at us,” Temari said confidently.

Baki frowned. “Hm.” He studied them both, Temari specifically. “Temari, how old are you now?”

“Nine.” She wiped a hand across her forehead again. “Why?”

“Just checking.”

“Age isn’t important to a shinobi,” Kankuro said with a shrug. “Everyone says that.”

Baki looked at him shrewdly. “That’s true, as far as ability goes. But age is important for Temari, because people are going to look at her differently to how they look at you. Temari, you need to focus more on taijutsu. Close combat is a skill you’re going to need.”

“Uh, that’s not really my thing,” Temari said. “Long range is more my style.”

“You won’t be able to keep everyone at a distance, and that fan isn’t going to stop people from getting close to you. When they do,” Baki looked at her seriously. “You need to be able to fight back.”

“Shouldn’t I need to be able to do that too?” Kankuro asked. “People will get close to both of us.”

“Yes, but it’s more dangerous for Temari.” Baki looked as though he did not want to add more, but he did anyway. “She’s a girl, and people will take advantage of that. They will naturally want to dominate you, they will naturally view you as weaker. They will take whatever opportunity they can to get close to you, and use that to their advantage.”

Temari shrunk back slightly. “Dad never says what they’ll do.”

“And hopefully you’ll never find out.” Baki’s expression was grim. “Whatever happens, keep men away from you. You’re going to have to work harder than Kankuro, and practice more, because no one will ever restrain themselves around you. You are Rasa’s daughter, and Suna’s princess, and that means you have to be more than a girl.”

“Stay away from the shadows,” Temari murmured. “That’s what Dad says.”

“He’s right. Stay in the light, where you can see everything. Stay in the open, where you can defend yourself from anything. And remember,” Baki’s eyes narrowed. “Men are cruel. You need to be crueller.”

 

It was unusual for Rasa to call all three children into his office.

Kankuro spent the walk there sending Temari sideways glances, hoping for answers and explanations, but she had none to give. She held Gaara’s hand, trying not to shake, because lately he had been scaring her with his silences and his dark glares. But today, he had been playing quietly alone, and hadn’t protested when she called him to her.

He stayed willingly at her side as they walked, delighted to have her attention for once, and it was only once he realised their destination that he slowed down.

“What?” Temari asked, glancing back at him just outside the doorway to the building. He hung at the end of her arm.

“He doesn’t like me being here,” Gaara said softly, his weight set back against Temari’s hold.

“He asked us to come. It’s fine.”

“Tem,” Kankuro said in a low voice. “What if he gets upset and . . . you know . . .” He flicked his eyes to Gaara, before whispering, “. . . Goes nuts?”

“He’s fine,” Temari said, with a confidence she didn’t feel, because Gaara was shaking his head slowly. Temari drew in a deep, grounding breath. “Gaara, it’s fine. Dad won’t be angry at you for coming here. And if he does, well, Kankuro and I will protect you, okay?”

She didn’t know who was going to protect them from him.

Gaara considered her words for a moment, before nodding, and coming to her side again. He stayed close by, almost hugging her arm. Kankuro looked doubtful, now lagging behind, and Temari grumbled at him.

“Come on, stop being such a pain.”

“I’m not a pain,” Kankuro retorted, but it had the desired effect, and he moved to Temari’s other side.

Gaara half hid behind her when Rasa let them into his office, one hand still clutching her own, and his other closed in the back of her shirt. She stood firmly in front of him, shielding him from Rasa’s dark glare.

“There’s a water crisis,” Rasa explained. “I called you three in so you would know about it. From tomorrow, the wells are being closed. There will be Anbu guards stationed at each of them. Each family will be granted one bucket per day. That includes us.”

Temari nodded.

“Why are we being told separately?” Kankuro asked.

“Because of him,” Rasa’s glare slid to Gaara, who ducked a bit further behind Temari’s elbow. “There are a lot of rumours in the village that he’s the cause of the drought. With Anbu needed elsewhere there won’t be guards around our house. So be aware that people might try to break in to get to him.”

“What’s the point?” Temari asked. “Gaara’s untouchable. They should just leave him alone.”

“Yeah, he gets picked on enough,” Kankuro added, “Without the village adding to it ‘cause we haven’t got any rain.”

“Watch him,” Rasa said firmly. “Protect him. Baki will be there tonight and tomorrow, but after that I might need him elsewhere.”

Gaara’s fist was shaking against her back. Temari squeezed his other hand lightly. “We’ll look after Gaara.”

“Good.” Rasa nodded shortly. “You can go now. Get whatever is left in the water tanks and store it inside – as soon as the wells are closed there will be people trying to break into them to take what’s there.”

Temari and Kankuro nodded, and left when Rasa dismissed them. The walk home was quiet, until Gaara tugged Temari’s arm and whispered, “They’re staring at me.”

She looked around, her eyes landing on a knot of people. Their expressions were dark scowls, and they made no secret of the fact that they were staring at Gaara, one even going so far as to point and mutter something to the others.

Gaara flushed, turning his head down.

“Want me to kick their asses?” Kankuro murmured.

“No,” Temari shook her head. “It’d be a waste of time. Gaara,” she looked down at him. “Ignore it. Come, we’re going home.”

“They’re staring,” he whispered, seemingly rooted to the spot.

“It doesn’t matter.” She tried to pull him forwards, but he hung back. With a sigh, she bent over, scooping him up in her arms. “We need to get home.”

Head high, she marched onwards, keeping her gaze away from the people. She heard one wolf whistle as she went past, and fought down a flush.

Kankuro grumbled at her side. “Stupid people.”

“Stupid _men_ ,” she corrected.

He looked a bit defensive. “Not all men are jerks, you know.”

Temari slid her eyes sideways towards him, and said in a low, challenging voice, “Prove it then.”

 

The house was silent. The whole village was silent, bathed under the clear light of a full moon.

Temari leaned her elbows on her bedroom windowsill, looking out at the village. The night air was cold, brushing past her in a gentle breeze. She couldn’t settle down and sleep. There was too much on her mind.

She noticed movement below, and cocked her head curiously.

Gaara wandered the streets, looking small and defenceless. He often wandered away at night, plagued by inner demons and the boredom that came with spending nights awake and alone. He moved aimlessly from one side of the street to another, head down.

She didn’t call out to him.

Part of her felt like she should go to him. Maybe walk with him a bit. They never spent time together. She tried, sometimes, but he often stayed silent or moved away when she tried to interact with him. There was a distance between them that she wasn’t sure she would ever close again.

She missed him. He was so close, and so far away.

“Gaara . . .” she said softly, barely louder than a whisper.

He didn’t hear her.

She continued to stare at him, until he stopped, head jerking upwards. She couldn’t see too clearly, but after a few moments of Gaara staying still, three men came into view. Where had they been hiding? She watched, curious. Gaara would be fine, of course. He always was. She felt a vicious curl of satisfaction in her stomach, knowing that it didn’t matter how many men bothered him, her little brother would always be fine.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying to him, but she saw him try to move away. One of them reached for Gaara’s arm, and Temari saw a flash of sand.

She ducked under the windowsill, not wanting to see any more. She stayed crouched out the way, listening to the sound of rushing sand, then agonized screams. It took only seconds, then silence fell once more. After a few minutes, she dared to look out the window again.

Gaara sat in the street, huddled up, with nothing around him. The sand was barely disturbed. There were a few tell-tale patches of darker sand, but that was all. He glanced upwards, and Temari jerked her head back, getting out of sight.

Carefully, she crept away from the window.


	8. Hurricane

There was barely any food in the kitchen. Temari was hunting in the back of cupboards, in case she had missed something. They had rice, and she pulled out a few packets of dried dates.

“Kankuro!” she yelled.

“What?” he yelled back.

“There’s no food in the house, didn’t anyone go shopping?”

“Dunno, I was out yesterday.”

She sighed, saying quietly, “Well, we’re going to starve.”

She ripped open a packet of dates, munching through them while she waited for the rice to cook. She was watching the water bubble when Rasa entered the kitchen. He went right past her, stopping at the fridge to pour a glass of water.

“How is training with the Wind Users going?” Rasa asked, not looking at her.

Temari lifted one shoulder. “It’s okay.”

She poked a fork into the rice, willing it to cook faster.

“I want to see. After my meetings tomorrow morning, you and I will train together.”

She nodded. “Whoever was meant to go food shopping for us this week didn’t.”

Rasa frowned. “Have you seen her around lately?”

“No.”

Rasa swore under his breath. “If that child has . . . Did Gaara get to her?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching him yesterday.” She stared into the pot. “She was looking at him the other day. Maybe she thought he was causing the drought, like you said, and he killed her. He was crying yesterday. Kankuro couldn’t figure out why.”

Rasa glared at the back of her head as she leaned over the rice. “I’ll leave money for you. Go get food later today.”

“Okay.”

“How much water did you put in that rice?”

“Just enough. I didn’t waste any.” She didn’t look at him.

Rasa leaned over her to open a cupboard, frowning. “You need to add something to it.”

“Kankuro wanted to go hunting.” There wasn’t much in the desert, but sometimes he came back with a snake or a lizard (And a cat once, but Temari had refused to eat it. So had Gaara. Kankuro had eaten it alone and kept the pelt to decorate a puppet.)

“You both need to eat properly.”

Temari shrugged again. There wasn’t much she could say to that. If there wasn’t food in the village, she couldn’t eat it. It was as simple as that. And the village was struggling and starving. Temari could see it when she walked through the streets. Children were gaunt and ribby, every shinobi she saw was lean and trim.

Shops were sparse with produce, and more and more people wandered out of the village into the desert to hunt for whatever was around. Conflicts grew fast, and more than once she and Kankuro had sprinted home from an errand to get away from a death match in the street over food.

Rasa sent them out of the village as often as he could, onto missions that took them away to places with more food and water. Temari didn’t mind; she loved getting out and seeing the world. And it was nice to get away from the whispers and the jeering when she walked through the streets.

The rumours ran rampant – about Gaara, about Rasa, about the fact that village was going to fall apart. They blamed Gaara for the drought. They blamed Rasa for not being able to do something about the drought. It was commonplace for shinobi to attempt to attack Gaara, hoping to rid the village of what they perceived as the problem.

Temari tried to stay away from people, focusing on missions, training, and learning all that she could, so that one day she would have the skills needed to change her village into something better.

“Baki said you did well on the last mission.”

Temari just nodded, resting her chin in her hands as she leaned over the pot of rice.

“He said you’ve started embedding chakra into your wind.”

“Yes.” She liked the way it cut. Through wood, through flesh, through anything. It was satisfying and reliable.

“You cut someone up with it?”

“He called me a bitch.” She turned around, facing her father. “He deserved it.”

Kankuro had said she was excessive. Gaara had been silent, and Baki had just watched her, eyes narrowed.

“Hm.” Rasa considered for a while. Then, to Temari’s surprise, he reached out with a hand, laying it on her head. “Good. You’re doing well.”

She stared at him. _Doing well . . ._ Slicing someone up was _doing well_. That was something that pleased her father. She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Even more surprising, he smiled back, moving his hand slightly on her head in an attempt at affection. “Tomorrow, I’ll see how you’re doing.”

He nodded once, pulling his hand back and leaving the kitchen.

Temari watched him leave with a soft smile still on her face. It was nice to know that performing well on missions garnered affection.

 

The sun was in the centre of the sky, beating down on everything, and Temari stood in the centre of the training grounds with a sour expression. She was slightly nervous. She knew she had been doing well, she knew she had been handling missions easily and efficiently, but now Rasa stood a few metres away, arms crossed, and she didn’t know if she was good enough for him.

She wanted to be, more than anything, but he was indomitable and highly skilled, and she felt a twist of anxiety low in her belly. She was good, but was she good enough? She had been training hard and working hard on missions, taking on anyone and anything.

But Rasa, she knew, was in a league of his own, and nothing she had done yet could rival his strength.

“Ready?” he asked tonelessly.

She gripped her fan tightly, fingertips just damp with sweat. She nodded, slightly too fast to look confident.

That was her only warning before he came at her, and she snapped her fan fully open to defend. By now, she could handle its weight and size with ease. She could use it however she pleased, to lift things up and tear things down. She was quick and powerful, like the desert winds.

But that wasn’t enough.

Within minutes, Rasa had ripped the fan from her hands, thrown her aside, and Temari lay on her back, gulping in air as her eyes narrowed against the sun.

“You cannot be disarmed,” Rasa shouted, and Temari didn’t reply. “This weapon is a barricade between you and the rest of the world. No matter what happens, you do not lose your grip on this fan. Next time you do, it’ll hurt a lot more. Get up.”

She heaved a sighed, sitting up and blinking against the sun. The sand was hot under her palms.

Rasa stood firmly, face in a scowl, and her stomach twisted. She was failing him. She was disappointing him.

“Never let this get taken from you again,” Rasa spat. “This is your weapon, and yours alone. No one disarms you.”

She nodded wearily, getting to her feet, and wiping the blood from her chin. Rasa flung the fan at her, and she caught it, falling into position to attack again. Her next wind attack was blocked by a wall of golden sand, which then darted towards her.

She leapt back, pulling her fan in, snapping it shut, and using it to swat away the tendrils of gold that flew towards her. As she cleared the last one from her vision, Rasa moved behind her, kunai at the ready. She spun to block it, the sharp clang of metal on metal ringing in her ears.

She felt the gold dust on her leg first, then her wrist, and she tried her best to wrench her body free. Hot metal slid from her grasp, her fan and her body pulled in opposite directions and she scrambled desperately to get her weapon back.

Before she could – fingertips just brushing the edge – she was spun around, and then the ground was rushing up to meet her.

She didn’t have time to do anything other than fall, and she hit the ground hard, palms flat, chin hitting the sand. Without allowing her a moment to recover, Rasa swung the fan once, and brought the sharp edge down across Temari’s back.

She screamed at the sudden pain, hands clenching into fists in the sand. There was an abrupt dampness across her skin, a rush of air where her shirt was sliced apart and the fan cut into her skin. She stayed still, not daring to move.

Rasa pulled the fan away, tearing it out of her flesh again in one swift, agonizing movement, and she bit back another scream, biting down hard on her lip. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, refusing to let them fall. If they were from pain, she should learn to deal with it, and if they were from shame, she shouldn’t feel it. She tried violently to supress her emotions.

“You’ve got a long way to go,” Rasa said impassively. “You won’t defend this village as you are now.”

A rough sob tore from her throat against her will, and she pressed her eyes against her forearm, trying to stop any more emotion from escaping.

“You need to work harder.”

Rasa dropped the fan next to her. The edge had a thin line of blood across it. He turned away, leaving her lying in the sand.

Temari stayed down, because she didn’t know if she could get up, and she wasn’t going to follow him anyway while she was sobbing into her arm, and struggling to breathe, and feeling blood run down her sides.

When her sobs finally subsided, she eased herself up onto her hands and knees, wincing at the feeling of drying blood pulling along the wound as she moved. She flopped over to sit down, hands braced behind her, biting her lip hard against the pain. There were little dark circles of blood around her.

And she could feel it still running down her back.

Sweat stung the open wound; the sun above was relentless and she had no cover outside. With effort, she got to her feet, picking her fan up and leaning against it for a moment. It hurt to walk, every step pulled at the edges of the wound.

She limped inside, calling feebly, “Kankuro? Are you home?”

She didn’t think she would get very far going up the stairs alone. She leant against the wall, leaving a patch of blood. Taking in a deep breath, she tried again, “Kankuro!”

Her voice was wet and broken, and she hated how weak it made her sound. She felt tears pricking at her eyes again, and slumped in defeat, sliding down the wall, smearing the blood behind her, until she sat in a heap, chin lowered and tears running down her face.

She could handle the pain. She didn’t mind that. But she had disappointed her father, hadn’t been good enough, hadn’t been what he had been expecting, and that ate at her.

When she heard footsteps pattering down the stairs towards her, she didn’t move.

“What happened to you?” Kankuro asked, looking baffled. “You’re all . . .”

He was wide eyed and uncertain. “Temari . . .” He crouched down in front of her, dark eyes worried. “Did he do this to you?”

“Can you help me upstairs?” she avoided his question. “I need to . . .” She winced. “Just help me up.”

Kankuro hooked one of her arms across his shoulders, straightening up carefully. He paused when Temari let out a hissing breath from between clenched teeth. “Tem?”

“Just go, I’m fine.” She gritted her teeth.

They made their way up the stairs slowly. Once in her room, Temari detached herself from her brother, moving to the long mirror on the opposite wall.

Kankuro sat on her bed, uneasy and frowning. Temari pulled her shirt off, whimpering a bit as the fabric tore away from the edges of the wound, stuck in place by drying blood. She edged up the mesh undershirt she had on underneath, cropped just above her navel, and just out of the wound’s edge.

It was long and deep, the blood around it baked black by the sun.

“You should clean that properly,” Kankuro said, looking uncomfortable. “There’s probably sand and stuff in there, and when last did you even clean that fan? There’s probably other people’s blood on it too.”

Temari inspected the cut across her back in the mirror. She frowned over her shoulder, struggling to see. “Can’t. Don’t have enough water.”

“Then we should go the hospital.”

“Why?” she turned on him, expression fiery. “So they can tell Dad I went running for help? So they can spread more rumours about our family? Have you heard what they say about us? That Gaara’s a monster, and Dad beats us, and –“

“And those aren’t rumours anymore, Tem,” Kankuro interrupted. “ _Look at you!_ ”

“I _know_ ,” she snapped, fingers scraping blood from her sides. “I was _there_ , I know what he did. But we’re not going to the hospital.” No one else would ever get to see how badly she had failed at pleasing her father.

They were interrupted by a squeak from the doorway, and both turned their heads to see Gaara standing there, wide eyes on the blood around Temari’s lower back, both hands clutched at his chest.

Temari sighed, turning to face him. “Gaara, what are you doing here?”

“I heard you and Kankuro arguing. What . . . what happened to you . . .?”

Temari and Kankuro both eyed him warily. Some days, the one tailed beast was calm and quiet, and Gaara was a normal child. And some days the beast was a raging, blood-thirsty monster and the mere sight of a wound would incite his rage. As of now, he seemed perfectly calm.

Neither wanted to risk that changing.

“Come on, Gaara,” Kankuro hopped off the bed. “We’ll go play together, okay?” He took Gaara’s wrist gently. “Tem’s busy.”

She kept her back away from Gaara as Kankuro led him out, then closed the door with a sigh. She went back to the mirror, studying her wound. It really did need to be cleaned. She grimaced, going to her closet and pulling out a dark, loose fitting blouse to throw on, and gingerly make her way downstairs again.

“Dad?” she called cautiously. “Are you home?”

She received no answer.

The silence was reassuring, and she made her way up onto the roof, looking in each of the three water tanks. There was a little water left in one, and she carefully filled a bucket – just enough. Just what she needed, because every drop counted, and she couldn’t afford to waste it.

She went back to the bathroom, taking a clean cloth and struggling to clean the blood off her back alone. It wasn’t an easy task, but the wound had dried somewhat, and once she had cleaned it the best she could, it didn’t start bleeding again.

She wrapped it carefully, so the rough edges wouldn’t catch on her clothes, and poured the bloody water down the sink. After foraging for something to eat, she picked up her fan, and went outside to train more.

 

A few days later, Temari sat at the kitchen table, staring into her tea. It was dark outside, and all she could hear was the muted wail of the wind. Kankuro had gone to bed already; she had no idea where Gaara was.

Her back still ached. She kept her eyes determinedly down as Rasa came into the kitchen. She heard him move around, opening cupboards.

His voice broke the silence. “What did you eat today?”

“There was stew.”

“Did your brothers eat?”

“Yes.” Kankuro had, Gaara hadn’t. But if she told him that, he would fly into a rage. It didn’t matter if Gaara ate or not, the demon inside him would keep him strong and deadly. She pressed her lips together, the muscles down her back tightening as she heard him move again.

He stopped behind her, and she flinched, immediately berating herself for the small movement.

“Are you scared?” Rasa asked in a low voice.

“No.” Her word trembled slightly. She tightened her grip around her mug.

“You are a Suna shinobi,” Rasa said darkly. “You fear nothing. And more than that, you are my child. And a child of mine has no fears.”

“I’m not afraid.” The muscles down her spine spasmed, and she gritted her teeth. _Stop standing behind me, please, I hate it . . ._

“You don’t get to be afraid. Not you.” Rasa’s voice stayed quiet. “Temari.”

She nodded once, working to suppress the slight twitch of her shoulder.

“They’ll know. Men will know, if you are afraid.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’re my princess, and nothing happens to you. But no one in the world is going to look out for you but yourself. Kankuro will be fine – but you. If something happens to you, everyone will take advantage of that.”

She turned her head a fraction to look at him.

“If Kankuro gets hurt on a mission, they’ll leave him alone. They’ll consider him worthless, and he’ll be fine. He can manage alone. But you . . . you know they’ll take you. They’ll do things to you that you are not ready for. You will be nothing but a plaything. So I need you to be stronger than everyone else, to survive.”

“Like a sandstorm,” she murmured.

“More than that. There isn’t a sandstorm without wind. I need you to be a hurricane. Fearless. You will fear nothing and bend to the will of no man, ever. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“There is not a man on earth who won’t take advantage of you if you let him. Remember that.”

“Even you?” It slipped out before she could think better of it, and she tensed in anticipation.

Rasa’s grip on her tightened momentarily. “You’re an asset to me. So, yes, even me.”

_Not Kankuro, though_. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. The motion made the skin across her back pull slightly, and she winced at the feeling. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the wound on her lower back, that she knew was going to scar. It would be there forever. Always letting her know that she hadn’t been good enough.

“I’ll do better,” she murmured. She wanted to add _I’ll make you proud_ , but the words stuck in her throat and couldn’t figure out how to say them.

“You have to be better. If you want to survive this desert, you need to do better. This is your village. Never let it take advantage of you.” Rasa took a step away from her, and Temari was seized with a sudden sense of longing.

She wasn’t sure what for; just something affectionate, just a hug, just a cuddle, just something to let her know she wasn’t a complete failure to him, she was still worthy of his respect and attention. (Maybe even love, but she wasn’t asking for that much, just for a little bit . . .)

She turned in her seat, looking up at him. “Dad . . .?”

“What?” he stared down at her, expression hard and closed off.

“I . . .” She trailed off, unsure of how to verbalize what she wanted. _I’m sorry. Please still love me. I’ll do better._ There were a lot of things she could have said. She lowered her gaze. “Nothing.”

He grunted in response. “Get some sleep. You need to train more in the morning.”

He left the kitchen, and she watched him go, almost longing to go after him. The urge passed, and she finished her tea, moving her mug to the sink and wandering upstairs.

Gaara sat near the window, staring out the night. He made no move to acknowledge her, and she didn’t say a word to him.

She pushed Kankuro’s door open, stepping carefully into the dark room. You never knew what weapons and puppet parts you would stand on. “Kankuro?”

There was a muffled sort of groan.

“I’m sleeping here.” She took careful, small steps to get to his bed, and miraculously didn’t impale herself on anything.

Kankuro lifted the blankets sleepily, and Temari snuggled down next to him. He was warm, and comforting.

She faced him, looking at his peaceful expression, shadowed by a narrow beam of moonlight through a gap in the curtains. He was breathing steadily, always ready to fall asleep in an instant.

She was jealous of that, sometimes. She could lie awake for hours and not be able to settle her mind enough to sleep. “Kankuro?”

“Ngh?”

“I love you.”

“Hm. Murr muh hn.” He mumbled sleepily.

She grinned, though, because she knew exactly what he said. She pushed closer to him, closing her eyes and shutting out any further thoughts.

 

 


	9. The Harsh Desert Life

The deal was simple: Last longer than twenty minutes against Baki, and she would be allowed to join the caravan escort team to get supplies into Suna.

It was her most coveted mission, because completing that meant not only was she helping her village, she was also gaining Rasa’s approval and respect. She had been waiting for it, longing for it, aiming for this exact mission since the day she learned it existed.

Kankuro sat quietly on the edge of their private training grounds, ready with a stopwatch. At Baki’s signal, he started the watch, Temari snapped her fan open, and threw herself into the fight with all the strength she could muster.

Baki pinned her to the sand in eight minutes.

“Long way to go, still,” he said. “I told you, your taijutsu needs to improve.” He kept her held down, both wrists behind her back, his knee pressed firmly against the base of her spine, ignoring her furious swearing and writhing. “Temari, if I had been meaning to kill you, you would be long dead. No one who attacks the supply caravan is ever going to show any restraint. You need to hit first, hit fast, and hit hard. Got it?”

She gritted her teeth, spitting out a mouthful of sand. “I get it, now fuck off.”

“You think you’re invincible because you’re Rasa’s daughter, but you’re not invincible yet. You need to spend less time being angry and more time actually fighting.”

Her struggling became less violent. “I’m _not_ angry!”

Kankuro snorted loudly from the side-lines.

“Focus,” Baki said patiently. “I’m going to let you go. When I do, I want you to come at me again. But _think_ this time, don’t just charge in recklessly. Kankuro, get ready. Restart the timer.”

“’Kay.”

“Ready?” Baki asked, and Temari finally lay still.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He flashed away, and Temari was up and on her feet in less than a second.

Kankuro stopped the watch at nine minutes.

“You’re done for the day,” Baki said, still keeping Temari firmly pinned to the sand. He looked towards Kankuro, “Your turn next. Same rules.”

Temari fought to get free. Baki released her, getting out of range easily as she kicked out at him.

“Temari, either use the stopwatch for Kankuro, or get out of here, but you’re done.”

She glared at him, silently seething. The sand had scratched a shallow graze along one side of her jaw, and she could feel her sweat stinging it. She wiped the back of her hand against it. “I’ll go.”

“Fine. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Wait, who’s gonna time for me?” Kankuro protested.

Temari didn’t look at him, just fetched her fan from where Baki had thrown it, and stalked away.

“I’ll do it,” Baki said. “Give me the watch.”

“But you can’t hold the watch and fight me,” Kankuro huffed.

“Yes, I can.”

Temari slammed her fan against one of the stone pillars as she walked past, liking the way it cracked and ignoring Baki’s sharp reprimand that followed her. She made her way out of the village, crossing the sand until she found a section of rocks.

Kankuro liked to hunt here; he said the rocks gave homes to lizards and snakes and rats.

With one irritated scream, she swung her fan and absolutely destroyed the outcropping of rocks in front of her. There was a powerful sense of satisfaction in her chest as the dust settled. She wiped the sweat off her forehead, smiling to herself, until she felt someone approach.

She jammed her fan into the sand, turning around to level a glare at the boy that was approaching.

Daimaru shuffled up.

“Hey, Temari,” he stared at the ground. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d pinned him down and beat his face in. He was taller, starting to gain muscle, and lose his bratty boy look. His eyes were still incredible.

“Oh, now you want to talk to me?” she sniffed. “Maybe I don’t want to talk.”

“Don’t be like that.” Daimaru shrugged. He dug the toes of one foot into the sand, and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

She stared at him, before turning and walking away without a word, expertly flipping her fan onto her back.

“Temari, wait,” he scuttled after her. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Piss off.”

“No.”

She stopped again, spinning to face him. “No?”

“No.” He repeated stubbornly. “You’re used to people backing down when they talk to you, because you’re the Kazekage’s daughter, but I’m not backing down. I’m staying, whether you like it or not.”

She snapped her fan open. “I said piss off.”

“I’m staying,” Daimaru said firmly. “And you can attack me, but I’m not leaving.”

“I can shred you to bits in a second.”

“I know.”

His answer surprised and startled her. If he knew she could tear him to pieces, why wasn’t he doing something about it? Was he stupid? “You should run from me.”

“Everyone should run from you,” Daimaru grimaced. “But I’m too dumb to do that.”

“Clearly.” She closed her fan, straightening up and relaxing her posture a bit. “Stupid enough to put up with me?”

“I guess I have to be, if I want to spend time with you. As you said, you can tear me apart. I doubt a smart man would volunteer for that.”

She smirked. “So I’m stuck with idiots for the rest of my life?”

“Looks like it.” Daimaru shuffled his feet. “So, you . . . busy?”

“I was.”

He huffed out a breath. “Wanna just sit and talk?”

She stared at him, wondering what his ulterior motive was. Because men always had ulterior motives when talking to women – Rasa didn’t let her forget that. Daimaru had to have some reason for seeking her out. She studied him, wondering what he had to gain from a conversation with her.

“No,” she said eventually.

His head shot up. “Why not?”

“Go find a ‘pretty girl’ to talk to,” she sneered, “Since I’m ‘ugly’.”

She hoisted her fan onto her back once more, and turned away, taking purposeful steps back towards the village.

To her annoyance, Daimaru scuttled after her. “I said I was sorry.”

“And I said piss off.”

His hand closed around her arm, and she reacted instantly, whipping around, fan gripped firmly and cracking the hard metal down onto his arm. There was a satisfying snapping noise, and Daimaru let out a high-pitched shriek.

“Don’t touch me,” she said coldly, keeping her fan in front of her.

Daimaru stared at her, arm hanging limply. “You broke my arm.”

“You touched me.” It was a perfectly reasonable reaction. _Stay away from boys. Don’t let men near you. Don’t let anyone, ever, touch you_. And always, always, hit hard and hit first. She had learned all these things from a young age, and they were constantly on her mind, and constantly being reinforced.

She lifted her fan onto her back, stalking away from him without a backwards glance. She had better things to do than speak to him, and she didn’t care if he was hurt. She ignored him as he called after her, gathering her chakra and taking off in a run for the village again.

Maybe it would be peaceful at home.

 

Kankuro gave up first, declaring it too hot to continue training. He settled in the shadow of the village wall, stripping off his shirt and hood and sitting in a heap. Lean lines were starting to show up on his abdomen, from not enough food and too much training, and his body settling on the cusp of puberty.

Temari did not join him, too focused on trying to use her chakra to balance on her fan while it hovered in mid-air. It was not going well.

“You’re wobbling,” Kankuro pointed out helpfully, shortly before Temari fell onto her face.

“I know,” she snapped, sitting up again and wiping sand from her mouth. She got up, pulling her fan from the sand and trying again.

“It’s ‘cause you can’t keep the air current steady,” Kankuro observed. “You’re too busy focusing on not tipping that you can’t keep the wind steady underneath it.”

“Wind is not as easy to throw around as your puppets,” Temari retorted, gathering chakra and using it to suspend the fan in the air. “It’s quite uncontrollable, you might have noticed.”

“Just like you.” Kankuro let out a bark of laughter as Temari hopped onto the fan and instantly overbalanced, face planting, once again, into the sand. He snorted even more when she hurled a shuriken at him, embedding it into the wall by his face.

“I’ll work more later,” Temari sighed, dragging the fan to him. She stared down at him, hands on her hips, the fan wedged upright in the sand. “You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah, and?” Kankuro wiped a hand across his forehead, grinning at her.

She kicked lightly at his folded legs, finally softening enough to smile in return.

They both snapped their heads around when there was a wailing shriek from the village gates. Temari ducked into the shadow at Kankuro’s side, dropping onto one knee. They watched someone emerge from the village, shrouded in a cloak, head down, and dragging a young child by one arm.

The noise had been the child, screaming and crying and doing all it could to resist being pulled.

“What are they doing?” Kankuro whispered.

Temari shrugged, but she knew the answer.

The cloaked figure did not look back, just continued with laboured steps across the sand, with a shrieking, writhing child leaving deep gouges in the sand.

“Tem?” Kankuro asked, looking at her ashen face. “You know, don’t you?”

“The North Desert,” Temari whispered. “They’re going to the North Desert.”

Kankuro’s attention snapped back to the two people leaving the village. The wind was beginning to drown out the child’s wails. “But . . . that doesn’t happen anymore . . .”

“There’s no water,” Temari pointed out. “I guess . . . I guess they thought it’d be better to get rid of the weak ones now before they . . . used up any more resources.”

They both stared as the two figures were hidden by sand and wind, out of sight and out of earshot.

“Come on,” Temari said. “Let’s go home.”

Kankuro pulled his shirt on again. “Yeah.”

She gripped his hand in hers, and they didn’t let each other go until they were safely home.


	10. Rasa's Daughter

The air felt strange. Electric and buzzing. It made her skin crawl.

“Something’s coming,” Kankuro whispered, close to her shoulder. They stood on the roof together, wondering at the weirdness in the air.

“Sandstorm?” she asked, scanning the sky. It was grey. It felt heavy.

“Rainstorm,” Rasa’s voice cut in, and the siblings flinched.

He stood behind them, eyes narrowed on the clouds. “Temari, I’ll need you to work hard. I’m gathering every wind user we have. We’re going to move the storm to where we want it. I need you to push the clouds.”

“I can’t reach that far,” Temari spun to face him. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Not being strong enough isn’t an option.” Rasa’s expression darkened. “This might be the only rain that passes over us for months, if not years. We need to hold the storm over us.”

“I can’t fight the wind,” Temari insisted. “I can’t go against it.”

“This is your village,” Rasa finally met her eyes. “Protect it. Hold this storm. Take your fan, take your courage, and _step up_. Suna ninja are made of struggles. This is yours. Kankuro,” he slid his gaze to the side. “You’re going to stay near her. At the top of the dunes. Help her when she needs it.”

Kankuro nodded, but he was watching Temari, studying the way her jaw was clenched, neck muscles pulled tight.

“You’ve got a few hours to get into position. Dress warmly,” Rasa said. When Temari didn’t move, he asked sharply, “Are you afraid?”

“No,” she said tightly, eyes down on the dunes.

“Then prepare. And make me believe it.”

Kankuro pulled her away by her sleeve, waiting until they were out of ear shot before asking, “You okay?”

“He wants me to hold a storm. To push against the wind.” Temari looked sideways at her brother, teal eyes blazing. “That’s impossible.”

That’s why she chose the wind, and why the wind chose her. Because it was a force no one could contain. How did Rasa think she was going to move the wind, with nothing but a fan at her side?

Kankuro followed her inside, and they both dressed as ordered, layering up. The air still felt strange, it made Temari’s hands shake slightly. She tried to ignore it. Once suitably covered, they wandered back onto the roof, watching the dark clouds roll in towards them.

Rasa met them again. “It’ll be here in a few minutes. Are you ready?”

Temari gulped, but she nodded.

“I’m counting on you,” Rasa said seriously, and Temari’s heart leapt. “Keep the clouds over us for as long as you can. The wind is going to blow them over quickly, you need to push them back.”

The village was scrambling around them, opening water tanks, checking gutters and pipes were clear, stretching tarpaulins over the streets to gather raindrops and runoffs. She drew in a shuddering breath. The electric feeling in the air churned her stomach, and her fan felt heavy on her back.

The wind picked up, suddenly sending her bangs flying around her face, and she and Kankuro shared a grim look. Wordlessly, they leapt from the roof, eyes on the dunes. There were other wind users scattered at strategic points, all intending to push the storm wherever they needed. The thought of controlling an actual storm still seemed impossible, and Temari didn’t know if she would be able to manage.

She placed herself on the top of the dune, feet planted firmly in the sand, just as the first drops of rain began to reach her. Kankuro settled behind her, keeping his distance, but close enough if she needed help. She snapped her fan open in one definitive movement, swallowing hard and gathering her focus.

Abruptly, the storm was upon them, dark thunderclouds rolling over the sky. She pulled the veil around her neck up and over her nose to protect from the sand that cut at her skin. The wind was screaming around her, swirling water, reducing visibility.

She braced against the wind, pulling her fan back, before swinging it against the wind. It was hard, and the fan resisted the movement. Temari gritted her teeth, feeling her feet sink down into the sand as she battled against the wind, instead of with it.

Kankuro’s chakra strings reached for her, helping hold her body up against the storm. She swung her fan again, arms shaking with the effort of it. The clouds were still rolling overhead, the rain was still beating her, and she wasn’t sure if she was making a difference or not.

A few minutes into her struggle, Rasa appeared suddenly, planting himself in the centre of the line of wind users.

“Circle the storm back,” Rasa commanded. “Keep it over the village for as long as possible!”

He was hard to hear over the roaring wind. The rain whipped at Temari’s skin, and she tightened the veil across her face to keep it in place. Her breath was hot against the cloth, but at least she could breathe in without taking in sand and frigid water. Each drop was like a needle; she had never felt cold like this before.

It almost broke her concentration, but she gripped at her fan, fingers tensing white under the strain, and braced her feet in the sand before swinging the fan with all the strength she could muster. The start of her swing was strained, the wild wind resisting against being turned back. It hammered at her control, and her grip on the fan faltered slightly.

She felt Kankuro move closer to her, anchoring her to the ground with his own strings of chakra, giving her something to brace against that didn’t sink.

Again, and again, she swung her fan, feeling the muscles in her arms protest the exertion. It was exhausting, and her vision swam for a moment. She narrowed her eyes, trying to get her focus back. Her fan felt heavy and immovable, but she swung it again, gritting her teeth against the resistance of the storm.

It felt like hours before the rain abruptly stopped, petering off to a few drops, then gone altogether.

She dropped the fan, unable to hold onto its weight any longer. Then her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the wet sand. Every muscle ached. The wild wind was still howling around her, whipping at her clothing even as it clung wet to her body.

It ached and it stung, but she couldn’t move.

She felt a strange tug at her arm, then another at her back, and then she was dragged across the sand, and eventually could hear Kankuro’s voice.

“Tem! You okay?”

She was eternally grateful for the veil covering her face as Kankuro’s chakra strings pulled her unevenly and almost forced her face into the sand. Suffocating would just be the last straw, really. She was unresisting as he pulled her close, kneeling down next to her with a worried frown. “Tem?”

“I’m okay,” she murmured, but her violent shivering indicated otherwise. “Just tired.”

“You did great,” Kankuro said, pulling her limp body half into his lap. “You helped so much.”

“Did we get enough water?” she asked drowsily, fighting off exhaustion. Kankuro was warm, and familiar, and she would have been happy to collapse against him and fall asleep.

“Yeah. Yeah, you got it,” Kankuro sounded so happy, his grin audible.

Temari felt him stiffen suddenly, and she opened her eyes just enough to see Rasa approaching them. Kankuro kept one hand on her shoulder, but sat up a bit straighter.

Rasa bent down, sliding his hands under Temari, and hoisting her up. He cradled the back of her head in one hand, the other around her lower back to hold her securely against him. Her arms hung limply, but she managed to grip her legs around his waist, even though her grasp was feeble and he was the only thing holding her up.

“Good girl,” Rasa said, sounding surprisingly gentle. “Kankuro, take the fan.”

Temari rested her chin over his shoulder, eyes drooping closed. When was the last time she was held like this? She couldn’t even remember. It sparked a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach.

Rasa patted her back gently, barely audible, “I’m so proud of you.”

That jolted her mind awake again, although her body stayed lax and still. She pressed her lips together to tamp down her excitement, but his words absolutely thrilled through her. She felt something touch her hand, and pried her eyes open.

Kankuro held her fingers gently between his own, and he grinned broadly at her as Rasa carried her home. She squeezed his hand back, still reeling.

Once home, Rasa laid her down on her bed, and Kankuro pulled the ties from her hair, and propped her fan up against the wall. They left her then, in the cool darkness, and if she had the energy, she would have laughed.

Instead, she lay on her back, grinning stupidly at the ceiling and replaying her father’s words in her head over and over again.

_I’m so proud of you._

_I’m so proud of you._

And all it took was moving a storm.

 

The water tanks were full.

Temari opened each one, grinning at the surface of the water. She touched her hand to it, watching the ripples burst forth.

There were puddles on the roof by the tanks, and Kankuro was jumping in them, slamming his feet down and creating splashes.

Temari hopped off the ladder to join him, dragging her toes across the water. “I’ve never seen so much water here before.”

“It’s like a pool,” Kankuro kicked out, watching the water splash up. “On the roof.”

Temari wandered through a puddle, watching the water ripple away from her feet. It wasn’t deep, but it was still fascinating.

When they tired of walking in circles, they went inside again, leaving wet footprints for the first time Temari could remember.

Rasa came through the house, head down and looking at a scroll, his Kazekage robe tucked under one arm.

Temari smiled brightly at him, still buoyed from his praise the night before.

He walked past her without looking up, and her smile faltered slightly.

“Dad,” she trailed him. “Can we train together later?”

“I’m busy today.”

“I can help.” She just wanted attention. She just wanted more – just wanted to be acknowledged, like last night. Just a bit more praise, just a bit more time with him. She jogged a few strides to keep up with him. “Please.”

“I don’t have time for you. Bother Kankuro instead.”

Temari stopped. She hovered at the front door, leaning slightly after him, but Rasa didn’t look back.

Disappointed, Temari kicked at the floor for a bit before deciding to wander out. The village looked different after rain. The sand was heavy, dried into a thick crust that broke apart in shards as she stepped on it, rather than the usual soft sinking she was used to.

She stared at the ground as she wandered aimlessly, ignoring everything around her.

“Temari.”

It was Baki’s voice, cutting into her thoughts.

She stopped walking, squinting up at him through the sunlight.

“You did a good job.” His normally stern face was relaxed, almost pleased, and she grinned.

“You saw?”

“I saw some of it. I had my own duties to attend to.” Baki laid a hand on her shoulder. “You deserve the day off. What are you doing outside?”

“Nothing,” Temari shrugged. “Just walking around.”

“Hm.” Baki glanced around, sharp eyes landing on two men lurking nearby. He pulled Temari slightly closer to him. “I’ll take you home. You should be resting.”

She followed his gaze, staring at the men. They were shrouded by long robes, standing in the shadow of the closest building. Warnings rang in her head – men in shadows are the most dangerous. _Keep away from them._

She nodded to Baki. “Okay. We’ll go home again.”

He kept his hand on her shoulder as they walked, and she found she liked it sitting there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not related to the story, really, but if you've never been in a desert and watched a storm roll in - rest assured it's powerful and gorgeous and a sight you will never forget.


	11. The Future on Their Shoulders

“What is that?” Temari peered at the carcass on the kitchen table.

“I have no idea,” Kankuro replied cheerfully. He had been poking it with a kunai, and now sat back a bit to regard the animal with a slightly tilted head. “I caught it in one of my snares.”

“It looks like a deformed dog,” Temari made a face. “Please tell me we’re not eating it?”

“What else would we do with it?” Kankuro shrugged. “I’m gonna skin it. I’ll dry the muscle tissue for later, but I guess we should eat the organs as fresh as possible-“

“How long has it been dead?” Temari asked suspiciously.

“I dunno. Why, scared your delicate princess stomach can’t take it?”

“You eat it first,” Temari sniffed. “If you die, I won’t eat it.”

“You’re such a girl, sometimes,” Kankuro poked the kunai into the animal’s hide. “It’s not been dead long, look, it still bleeds when you cut it.”

“Lovely,” Temari said dryly. She sat down opposite Kankuro. “You’re getting blood on the table.”

“I’ll clean it up.” Kankuro looked unconcerned. He continued his vague digging around with his kunai, and Temari folded her arms on the table and leant her chin on them, watching him work.

They both shot upright when Rasa entered the kitchen. “Why is there a dead hyaena on my kitchen table?”

“That’s what it is,” Kankuro marvelled. “Cool. Um, I caught it.”

“Get it off the table.” Rasa commanded.

Kankuro put the bloodied kunai down, and causally shoved the carcass off the edge of the table. It landed on the floor with a muted thud. Kankuro rubbed at the blood spot left behind.

With a shake of his head, Rasa dropped a box on the kitchen table. “For you three.”

Kankuro stood up to peer inside. “Wow. What are all these?”

Suitably curious now, Temari stood up as well. The box had an assortment of fruits inside. “Where are these from?”

“The River border,” Rasa replied, taking a rare moment to stand and talk to them. “These ones travel well. I thought you would appreciate them.”

“This is so cool,” Kankuro reached into the box, grabbing a fruit at random. “I don’t even recognise some of them.”

Temari smiled genuinely at her father, for what felt like the first time in ages. “Thank you.”

He grunted, preparing to leave. But before he exited, he ruffled a hand through Kankuro’s hair, and paused to pat Temari on the head.

The siblings shared a grin over the table, before Kankuro upended the box on the table.

“Those are apples,” Temari set them aside. “Ever imagined we’d have ones that weren’t dried or canned?”

“Nope. And this is a pineapple,” Kankuro sat the fruit upright. “Stupid looking fruit. And that’s a . . . what is that?”

Temari cocked her head to the side. “I don’t know. I’ll find a book; we can look it up.”

“Bananas,” Kankuro continued. “Oranges.”

He arranged everything into neat piles while Temari wandered off, returning a few minutes later with a book. She plonked it on the table, grabbing the mysterious round fruit and squinting at it. Finally, after much page turning, she looked up at Kankuro.

“It’s a pomegranate,” Temari announced, pointing it out.

“That doesn’t even sound like a word,” Kankuro made a face. “How do you even get into it?” He prodded at the skin. “It’s solid.”

“We’ll cut it,” Temari decided, flipping through the book. “It’s red inside.”

Kankuro produced a knife from seemingly nowhere, and cut experimentally at the fruit. “It’s very solid.”

They hacked at it, breaking off pieces and eventually getting inside to find tiny red seeds. Temari pried a few free. “After all the effort to get into it, you’d think it’d taste like magic.”

“Tastes like red,” Kankuro mused. He picked more seeds out. “I like them.”

“Gaara!” Temari called. “Come down here and look what we’ve got!”

There was no reply, but she hadn’t expected one. She shook out more seeds, while Kankuro snatched up another fruit to begin chopping.

Gaara came into the kitchen silently, face haggard and drawn.

_Must not have been a good night_ , Temari thought grimly. A lot of nights weren’t good these days. “Dad brought us fruits to try.”

Gaara said nothing.

She moved a bit to the side, so as not to obscure the view of anything on the table.

“It’s a pomegranate,” she explained. “Look, you eat the red bits inside.” When Gaara did nothing more than stare blankly, her confidence wavered. Tentatively, she held some seeds out to him. “Do you . . . want to try some . . .?”

Kankuro paused in his enthusiastic granadilla carving to see what Gaara would do. After a period of nothing, Gaara turned away from them and returned to his room.

Temari let out a pent-up breath. “He creeps the hell out of me when he gets quiet like that.”

“So much for being nice,” Kankuro muttered. He handed her a piece of granadilla.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I don’t know, you’ve got the book,” Kankuro shrugged.

She chewed absently on the fruit while paging through the book again. “I don’t think it’s in here.”

“Oh well.”

“We should find recipes with these in them and see what we can make.” Temari eyed their collection.

“I’ll do that,” Kankuro volunteered. “Everything you cook tastes awful.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It’s not as good as mine,” Kankuro smirked.

She couldn’t argue that. “Okay, no, it’s not, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“So you agree that I’m the better cook?”

She huffed. “Yeah, you are.”

“Good,” Kankuro’s smirk broadened. “Then you won’t mind trying the hyaena when I cook it.”

 

Temari’s grip on her fan shook ever so slightly, and she worked hard not to let it show.

Baki faced her across the sand, his eyes narrowed and serious.

She was out of breath, but ready as he rushed her, closing her fan and bringing it in front of her to defend against his barrage of shuriken and kunai attacks. The ringing of metal on metal was rhythmical, and for a moment she forgot the seriousness of what they were doing.

Then one of Baki’s hits almost knocked the fan from her grasp, and she focused again, leaping back to gain some distance.

The fan snapped open in one fluid motion, and Temari stirred up a whirlwind, pushing Baki further back. She almost lost sight of him in the sandstorm, but his shadow was very faintly visible, and she kept her eyes locked on him, watching him.

He leapt up and out of the path of her windstorm, coming at her again. He always did, always moved in close, wanting to know she could always defend herself, no matter the distance. She jammed her fan more firmly into the sand, using it as an anchor to leap up and kick him firmly as he got within range.

She landed on the sand, one hand gripping her fan, the other sending a series of kunai with exploding tags flying. The smoke from the explosions covered her escape, and by the time the smoke cleared, Baki was standing still on the training grounds, an unusually pleased smile on his normally stoic face.

He tipped his head back to find her, squinting against the sun.

Temari floated above him, carefully balanced on her fan. It had taken weeks of practice, but she could now confidently hover.

Baki motioned her down. “Nicely handled.”

She hopped down, landing with a slight grunt. She was breathing hard, all too aware of the sweat running down her face, but Baki nodded approvingly.

From the side, Kankuro gave a triumphant shout. “Yeah, Tem, way to go!”

She looked to him, smile faltering ever so slightly at the sight of Rasa standing next to Kankuro.

She looked to Rasa, holding her head up proudly.

His expression hadn’t changed, but he nodded once. Turning away, he said gruffly, “You can do the next caravan escort mission in two weeks.”

Her face lit up, and she bounced in place. “Thank you!”

She turned her delighted grin to Baki, and he smiled softly at her.

“Good job, Princess.”

She jumped at him, to his utter surprise, wrapped her arms around his neck and held tightly, a poorly suppressed squeal of excitement breaking loose.

Baki hugged her awkwardly, patting her back and trying to extract her from his person. “That’s enough of that. Just do the mission.”

He forcibly pulled her away, setting her onto the ground again. Kankuro came trotting over, holding out a fist, which she happily bumped with her own.

“You’re a real Suna ninja now,” Kankuro said brightly.

“Dad’ll be proud of me,” she whispered, overcome with the thought.

“We should celebrate,” Kankuro declared. He turned to Baki. “Can we be done for the day, and go have fun somewhere?”

Baki sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll spend some extra time with Gaara. Don’t cause trouble.”

“We never do,” Kankuro replied, and Baki’s frown deepened, but he didn’t bother to contradict that statement.

“Come with us,” Temari said. Her request surprised him. He was not accustomed to them asking for his company. Usually, Temari and Kankuro ran off together whenever they could, lost in their own private world. For Temari to ask for his presence was unusual, but not unwelcomed.

He considered, then nodded. “Alright, fine.”

It was worth it, the way they both lit up at his answer, and began marching across the sand, bickering endlessly.

He studied them as they went. Both of them were growing into fine young shinobi.

Kankuro was impulsive, but cheerful in his work. He was passionate about his puppets, and his enthusiasm showed through. He was a real Suna shinobi, brawly and dark, and looking more like his father each day.

It was Temari, though, who shone the most.

She was turning beautiful. Baki recognised it in the way she turned her face to the sun, the broad smile she shot at Kankuro. She looked like Karura, just harder. With more edges to her, more of Rasa’s sharpness in her face, more of Suna’s struggles in the muscles of her limbs.

He wasn’t supposed to get as attached to them as he was, and he knew that. They were tools, they were assets, and he was nothing but their keeper, ensuring they handled themselves correctly and progressed and became useful.

But, more often than not, he found himself treasuring the simple times together. Times when Kankuro showed off a new puppet or a new skill, voice brimming with excitement. Times when Temari laid her head on his arm and dozed off while he sat and lectured Kankuro on his taijutsu form. Times when he watched over them as they sat side by side, whispering to each other.

“You two.” Baki stopped walking.

They glanced back at him, the same questioning expression on both of their faces.

He didn’t express sentiment often. It wasn’t something Suna shinobi did. But he pushed aside his training, and said, “You’re doing well. Both of you. Suna is lucky to have you defending it.”

They both blinked, surprised at the praise, then Kankuro’s eyes creased closed as he grinned, and Temari’s face softened into the beautiful smile she was capable of doing. Suna’s future, Baki thought, was looking brighter.


	12. No Longer A Child

It started as a vague, uncomfortable sensation low in her belly one morning, and Temari tried to ignore it.

By the evening, it had escalated into powerful, rolling waves of pain.

“Kankuro,” Temari called from the bathroom. “Can you bring me water from the tank?”

“Why?” he shouted back, slightly muffled by walls and doors.

“Because I’m bleeding and I want to clean up, duh!”

“You’re what?” There was a scuffle, then Kankuro sprinted into the bathroom. “When did you get hurt? You look fine?”

“I’m not hurt.” She was sitting in a miserable huddle on the bathroom floor, back against the bathtub and arms crossed over her stomach.

“But you said you were bleeding,” Kankuro repeated, puzzled.

“Not that kind of bleeding, you idiot.”

Understanding lit up Kankuro’s face. “Oh, I see. That happened, huh?” He paused. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, it hurts, you fucking weirdo, just fetch me some water from the tank.”

“Oh, so it’s true. Girls do get extra bitchy that time of the month,” Kankuro grumbled. “Gee, you just dived right in there with the attitude problem, didn’t you?”

“Get water now and I might not drown you in it,” Temari seethed.

“Why don’t you get it?”

“Because I can’t fucking _move_ right now!”

“Okay, whoa, language.” Kankuro backed away. “I’m going. Are you going to be this dramatic the whole time? How long does it take?”

“Just go!”

She breathed out a sigh of relief when Kankuro left. Hopefully, this was just a one-time thing. A temporary moment of pain, and it would fade away and she would be able to continue as normal.

It did not fade away.

She spent the night tossing restlessly, trying to ignore the constant cramping, but it wouldn’t go away, and by morning she had twisted the blankets into harried corkscrews, had groaned and sweated, and was trying to do something, _anything_ , to the lessen the pain.

The thought of standing up and trying to function worried her, because she knew she couldn’t.

Kankuro came looking for her when she didn’t get up for breakfast, coming into her room with a frown on his face. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Uh . . . you okay there?”

“No.”

“We’re meant to meet Baki to train in, like, ten minutes.”

“I’m not getting up today,” she muttered, clutching the blankets protectively.

Kankuro shrugged. “Dad’ll be mad.”

“That’s his problem.”

“What should I tell him?”

“Tell him I’m dying of the Black Plague, I don’t care.” Temari groaned, sinking a bit deeper into her mattress. “It might be true.”

Kankuro watched her for a few minutes.

“What can I do?” he asked hesitantly.

“Kill me,” Temari groaned. “Maybe that’ll hurt less.” She pressed her face into her pillow so she could scream in frustration without alarming the entire village. Then she peeked at her brother again. “Are you going to stand there looking terrified all day?”

“I’ll be back,” Kankuro assured, edging away. “I’m gonna help.”

“Well fuck you.” Temari snapped, unwilling to be co-operative and even less willing to be civil. She squirmed around in a vain attempt to get comfortable, cursing under her breath and just generally hating the world.

Kankuro returned, peering tentatively into the room before entering fully. He shuffled to her bedside.

“Apparently warmth will help,” Kankuro sounded unsure. “I made a hot water bottle.” He held it out, expression doubtful. “Also, Baki said we’ll try make an appointment with the healer, and maybe they’ve got a plan. Uh, I’m not sure how safe it is but I use these plants in my poisons and they make people go to sleep-“

“Gimme,” Temari demanded.

“Are you sure? I think it’s fine but I don’t know-“

“Give. Now.”

Kankuro hesitated.

“I swear to God I will rip your stomach out with my _fingernails_ so you know what this feels like, just give me the damn poison.” Even lying in a blond, messy huddle, Temari could still look menacing.

Kankuro shrugged. “Okay. I’ll go get some.”

He returned shortly with a glass of water, several dried leaves floating in it. “So, I probably have the dosage right to not kill you . . .”

“If I die, hit yourself on the head with my fan until you bleed,” Temari grumbled, taking the glass from him and downing the water in one gulp. She flopped down again, curled up and moaning softly.

“Do you want me to leave?” Kankuro asked awkwardly.

“I don’t care.”

“Okay. I’ll just . . . go work on the puppets on a bit . . .” He backed out of her room.

Temari didn’t say anything else to him. She was too busy being flooded with relief that Kankuro’s mysterious herb mixture was working, and she could feel sleep tugging at her. She gave in with a sigh, letting her mind drift into pleasant nothingness.

 

When Temari opened her eyes, Gaara was staring at her.

The sudden shock of seeing him sent her heart rate spiking upwards, and she froze in place, unwilling to make any sudden moves.

Gaara didn’t even blink. He studied her, unmoving. Finally, in a low tone, he asked, “Are you injured?”

She tried to keep her breathing steady. “No . . .”

Gaara’s expression was unreadable. “It says you’re bleeding.”

_Well, fuck_. Temari sat up very slowly. “I’m fine, Gaara.” _Don’t provoke him, don’t startle him, don’t do anything . . ._ “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

_Please leave_ , she begged silently. _Please leave me alone._

He stayed where he was, gaze unblinking.

She gathered herself up a bit more, sliding into a position to move fast if needed.

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, just as tonelessly as before.

She couldn’t see any sand moving, but that could change in a second. “It’s fine. It’s not . . . I’m not injured.”

Gaara studied her quizzically for a bit, before seeming content to drop the subject. He left her room, somehow looking both aimless and purposeful, and Temari flopped onto her back and let out a loud breath of relief.

So she had that to add to her list of problems – that Gaara’s demon would thirst for her blood. It was shaping up to be the worst week of her life.

 

Temari was still lying in bed by the evening, her hair fanned out across her pillow, contemplating life. The relentless cramping had ceased for now, and she was enjoying the respite. She turned her head when the door opened.

Rasa stepped inside, and Temari sat up slowly. He scowled at her, automatically, the way he always did when her hair was loose, and she moved a hand to her hair subconsciously, trying to hide it.

“Hm,” Rasa frowned, studying her as she sat. “I’m taking you off missions for the rest of the week.”

“But I was meant to escort the supply caravan,” she replied. “You said I could.”

“Kankuro will go instead. Kankuro,” Rasa spoke his name sharply.

There was a slight pause before Kankuro came shuffling into Temari’s room, a puppet’s leg in his hand and a screwdriver in his mouth.

“You’re doing the trade route in two days. Get those puppets ready.”

“Thought Tem was going.” His words were slightly garbled around the tool in his mouth.

“She’s not anymore.” Rasa shot her look, and she shrank back a fraction.

Kankuro nodded, shooting Temari a concerned look. She averted her eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze. When the silence lingered awkwardly, Kankuro left the room.

Temari could feel Rasa’s glare burning holes in her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She hated herself right then – Kankuro didn’t have this problem. Kankuro didn’t have to spend a week getting betrayed by his body. She wanted to add – _It’s not my fault_. But it had to be, because it was her body. It was her fault.

It was her fault she couldn’t do an important mission – one the village depended on for survival.

It was her fault she was disappointing her father.

Rasa left without another word, and Temari sank back down, lying in a miserable huddle. She tried to close her eyes and go to sleep, but all she could see in her mind was her father’s cold stare, and all she could think about was how badly she had let him down.

She pressed her face into her pillow and sobbed.

 

She spent the next few days on her own. Baki took Kankuro and Gaara out on the caravan escort mission, and Rasa did not come back to speak to her.

The pain and bleeding finally eased, and Temari ventured outside, wandering the village aimlessly. The sun was relentless, as always, and the whole village seem to shimmer in the heat. She threw her cloak on, trying to shade her body against the sun.

She felt like everyone was looking at her. Like every knew. Was she walking differently? Did she change how she moved, to accommodate the uncomfortable feeling in her abdomen? Did she smell like blood? She felt like she did. She couldn’t decide if it was real or her imagination.

She threw the hood of her cloak up, hiding her face. It made her feel slightly better. No one needed to know who she was. No one needed to know what was happening to her body. Even under the cloak she felt hideously exposed, and she stayed near buildings, keeping her body in the shadows, even though she knew it wasn’t safe.

She rounded a corner and walked straight into someone.

“Hey!” they reprimanded sharply, in a rough, gravelly voice.

She took a step back, turning her glare upwards.

The man faltered. “Oh. Temari . . . Princess, sorry, I didn’t . . .” He didn’t fumble over words anymore, choosing to bow shallowly and move swiftly away. She glared at him as he hurried off, then turned to continue her mindless meandering.

“Don’t often see you out alone,” another voice interrupted, this one low and dangerous sounding.

She tensed a fraction, eying this new man who had been hiding further along. Concealed in shadows, as they all were, and rangy and gaunt, from drought and famine and too much fighting. There were two types of men in Suna, and there always had been.

Those that ran from her, and those that sought her out.

She faced the man, chin up defiantly. “Get out of my way.”

He moved to block her path, looking down at her. There was a glimmer of intent in his dark, narrow eyes. She didn’t know what his intent was, but she assumed it was underhanded.

The intent of men always was.

He reached towards her, and her expression shut down into a frown. She moved quickly, violently, ready to spin the situation around. She didn’t fear him, she didn’t care about him, all she needed was herself and her own power.

It was without much thought that she grasped the man’s arm, as it arced towards her throat, and twisted. Years of practice, years of training, and acute attention to detail had taught her exactly what it took to break bone. She could feel the tension of the man’s arm beneath her fingers, could feel the tendons strain, and then she felt it.

The movement of bone, creaking beyond its natural capabilities. There was a moment of tension, a moment where bone resisted its breaking point, and then she felt the snap, _crack_ , the sudden change in texture beneath the man’s skin.

He dropped down to his knees with a howl of pain, and Temari tightened her grip, feeling the slide of bone to skin, grating from the inside. She knew it was cruel. She knew she was cruel. But she was a desert child, and the desert had always been cruel. It took life, it gave nothing back, it was strong and harsh, and she wanted that. She wanted to be that powerful, that merciless, because that was what Rasa’s daughter was meant to be.

It was the most incredible feeling, having a man on his knees before her, screaming and begging, completely at her mercy. The power was intoxicating, and she wondered if Rasa would be proud of her.

She released his arm roughly, staring him down. “Come near me again, and you won’t have an arm anymore.”

He nodded frantically; eyes wide.

There was an odd stirring in her stomach, a commanding feeling that he should be killed. But she pushed it down. Suna needed shinobi. It wouldn’t be useful to start mindlessly killing people on a whim – the village already had one child doing that.

She had to raise the village up.

She turned away from him, stepping out into the sunshine.

 

Kankuro came home with a glum expression and Karasu in pieces, but he brightened up when he saw Temari.

“We ate fish,” he said, as she lay on his bed and he pulled weapon after weapon from his puppet to repair and restock it. “Fresh ones. They had been caught that same day.”

“I miss fresh food,” Temari said wistfully. “It’s been nothing interesting for months.”

“There were peaches that we could pull right off the trees, right at the border,” Kankuro added. “They were kinda weird tasting. How was it here?”

“Same as always,” Temari folded her arms in front of her and rested her chin on them, laying on her stomach to watch Kankuro work on the floor. “Broke someone’s arm when he tried to grope me.”

“Cool.”

“Not really.”

He looked at her. “How are you feeling? With the . . . you know.”

“Nervous, actually. Like, I’m not looking forward to doing that shit every month.”

“I thought Baki was taking you to the healer to work something out?”

“You might have noticed, but he wasn’t here. He was with you.”

“Dad was here,” Kankuro said quietly.

“Yeah. He was.” She didn’t need to add more.

“Has is stopped?” Kankuro asked.

“Yeah, mostly.” She still felt sticky and gross, though. She rolled away when Kankuro sat next to her on the bed, and he looked mildly offended.

“What did I do?” he asked. He was used to cuddling her. Especially after time apart.

“Nothing. I don’t want to be touched.” Her body didn’t feel like her own anymore. It felt dirty, and she hated the way she was hyper aware of everything around her. She didn’t want to move too much, didn’t want to do anything that might make the bleeding worse.

Kankuro huffed. “Don’t have to be mean to me, you know.”

“I’m not being mean.”

“You are.”

She looked away from him, settling on her stomach again, with her arms folded in front of her, chin resting on them. She stared at nothing. “Sorry.”

Kankuro blinked, surprised by the apology. “Uh . . . okay?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “You know . . . like, we can talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about,” she replied dully.

“Yeah.” He laid a hesitant hand on her back, relaxing a fraction when she didn’t shrug him off. “Hey, if you wanna have a bath today, I can skip it and you can use my share of the water, too. Might make you feel better?”

She sniffed. “Okay.”

He patted her awkwardly, moving to stand up.

“Don’t go.”

Kankuro hesitated in place. “Uh . . . You said no touching?”

“I know.” She shifted onto her side, pulling him down with both hands until he was lying next to her, then she pressed her face into his chest. “Hold me.”

_Moody_ , Kankuro thought, but he kept the notion to himself, draping an arm over his sister. Her breath shuddered against him, and he gripped her a bit tighter. “Wanna hear more about the mission?”

She nodded, keeping her face hidden, and maintaining a death grip on his shirt.

“It was pretty cool,” Kankuro said. “Baki said I did well. It’ll be better when it’s you and me, because we’re a much better team, but Gaara was good, too. You know, he asked about you, just in case you think he doesn’t worry when you’re not around.”

Kankuro prattled on, filling the silence, and not saying a word at the patch of dampness that spread across his shirt where Temari’s face was pressed.


	13. Out of Control

The morning sun hit Kankuro’s bed earlier than it reached hers, and Temari growled as it started warming up in the room, pushing Kankuro away from her.

He jerked slightly, eyes opening. “What are . . . oh, it’s just you.”

“Who else would be in bed with you?” Temari grumbled, sitting up and kicking the blankets away vehemently.

“I dunno.” Kankuro yawned. “Is it really morning?”

“Moonlight isn’t this bright, dumbass.” She drew her knees up to her chest. “It’s gonna be hot today.”

“What a surprise.”

Temari kicked him, and he laughed, prompting a smile from her as well.

“I’ve got the day off,” Kankuro said, stretching across the bed, accompanied with loud sounds of joints popping. He was getting taller than her, lanky and long and skinny when he stretched. “So I guess Baki will take you to the healer today?”

“Probably.” She wandered to the window, looking out over the village. “Are you going to come with?”

“To hear about your gross womanly problems? No thanks. I’ll stay home. I’ll see if there’s anything nice to cook.”

“Make something sweet. It’s been a while since we had something sweet.”

“We have sugar, just eat that.”

Temari rolled her eyes. “We can do better.” She flicked her hair back. “I’m going to get dressed. Don’t spend the whole day in bed.”

Kankuro shrugged. “Don’t order me around.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as she left. Gaara was standing near her bedroom door, and Temari paused when she saw him.

He looked up at her, expression unreadable. After a long, awkward silence, he finally spoke, “You didn’t come on the escort mission.”

“I wasn’t feeling well.” She edged past him, careful not to brush against him at all. He made her nervous. She never knew what to say to him, or how to talk to him. He seemed stuck in his own world of glares and terse sentences, and even if she wanted to reach out to him like she did to Kankuro, he would probably reject her attempts.

She closed her bedroom door softly, to block Gaara out so she didn’t have to worry about what he was thinking or doing. Mindlessly, she got ready for the day, re-tying her hair, getting dressed, and then she wandered to find Baki.

He was waiting at the front door, expression as blank as ever.

She hated how she flinched slightly under his gaze. She didn’t feel like herself. She was still feeling sticky and gross, and oddly vulnerable.

Baki nodded to her once, and began walking. She fell into step beside him.

The healer lived near the edge of the village, and usually Temari would be happy to go alone. But there were narrow streets to get there, too many shadows and too many men, and she didn’t feel up to handling all that alone.

Baki watched her as they walked.

“If you need to talk about anything,” he said stiffly. “As your sensei, I am always available.”

“Oh, please,” Temari scoffed, confidence returning as people moved aside to let them pass. “You don’t want to talk about this. You don’t want me to talk to you about any of this.”

“That’s true.” Baki looked down at her. “But if you need to, then we will.”

She sniffed, chin tilting up slightly. “I can manage on my own.”

She could manage anything on her own. Rasa’s daughter, Suna’s princess, could take on any challenge. She couldn’t back away from something. Not even this.

The healer seemed unconcerned when Temari relayed the drama of the past week, merely shrugging, before presenting her with a small container of pills.

“Try these.”

“They’ll help?” Temari shook it curiously, listening to the rattling inside.

“It’ll help with the pain.” The old healer gestured vaguely with one hand. “Some people get it worse than others. You seem to be one of them. Take one every day, and you should be fine.”

“Should be?”

“If it doesn’t help, we can up the dosage, but I haven’t needed to do that for anyone for years. Let me know if there are any side effects.”

“Like what?” Temari asked suspiciously.

“Anything unusual. It differs from person to person. Oh, and Princess?”

“Yes?”

“These are not birth control. So behave accordingly.”

Temari flushed slightly. “I don’t . . . Okay.” She nodded. “I will.”

The healer looked satisfied with that. “Then carry on as normal, and you shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“Thank you,” Temari said sincerely. She returned to Baki, who looked her over, but didn’t say anything.

She walked beside him, eyes down. It still felt like the village was staring at her – different to how it usually was. She felt ashamed of herself, her confidence destroyed by a weakness within her that she couldn’t overcome on her own.

Back at home, Kankuro invaded her room to see what had transpired at the healer. He zeroed in on the little container next to her bed.

“These are your anti-bitchy pills?” Kankuro opened the container. “Think they’ll work?”

“If they don’t, I’ll kill you.” Temari fussed with her hair by the mirror, wishing it didn’t annoy her so much. Why couldn’t she be pretty like other girls – with long, smooth hair, and eyes that weren’t jewel-hard and piercing.

“Still bothered over your hair?” Kankuro asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You could cut it.”

She wanted it longer. It never grew enough for her liking. “Don’t tell me I’m still bothered by how I look, when you insist on that ridiculous face paint and your stupid hood.”

“I’m a puppet master,” Kankuro said, not in the least bothered. “Being weird is normal for us. You, on the other hand, just have hang ups.”

The desert didn’t make pretty things. The desert didn’t make delicate skin and soft hands, and gentle smiles with silky hair. Temari sighed, pulling her hair back to tie it up.

She was all desert – dry and harsh and ruggedly surviving.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked, turning to face Kankuro.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if you are or aren’t.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

Kankuro wrenched his gaze away from hers, staring down at the bed. He picked at the covers, working a thread loose. Absently, quickly, he said, “You look like Mom.”

Temari turned back to the mirror. There was a lot swirling in her jewel-jade eyes. She replied softly, unsure how she felt about her own words. “Yeah. Dad says so, too.”

 

Temari threw herself back into missions, fuelled by guilt at letting her father down, and angry defiance at her own body. She was determined not to be seen as weak, not be a disappointment ever again. Not to let something as trivial as being a woman ever affect anything she did again.

She knew only one way to get her father’s attention back on her, and so she took down targets on missions in the most brutal and violent ways she could.

Baki caught her by the back of her shirt as she was about to plunge a kunai into someone’s eye socket.

“That’s enough, Temari,” he hauled her back, pulling her a few steps away from the man who was lying in a broken and bloodied heap on the sand.

“I wasn’t finished,” she snapped, trying to fight free of his hold.

“You’re finished. You can stop now.”

“He’s needs to-“

“Temari,” Baki pulled her away. “Calm down. I don’t need two of you on this team who don’t know when enough is enough.” He didn’t loosen his grip on her, “Kankuro, finish up here. We’ll meet up once you’re done.”

Kankuro nodded, sending Gaara a wary, sideways glance.

Baki pulled Temari a short distance away, before letting her go. He faced her, arms crossed, face set in a deep frown. “I don’t know what your problem is lately, but you need to get it sorted out.” He sighed gruffly, “I am your sensei, and if something is going on that’s going to affect missions, I need to know about it.”

“I’m not affecting missions,” she said dully. “Dad says I’m doing well.”

“Ah. That again.” Baki closed his eyes briefly. “You’re growing up. You’re changing. And I know you’re realizing that you’re not invincible. You need to keep up with Gaara, with whatever idea is in your head about what Rasa wants from you, but you cannot do everything by being as violent as possible.”

“It’s worked so far.” She was feeling as though she couldn’t cope. Everything was spiralling out of control, but she could make her own decisions on missions. The more she learned, the more she realised she was at a disadvantage in the world. Both her little brothers could walk fearlessly in their village. Her father could take on any threat. He could stand outside in the dark and never need to look over his shoulder.

She couldn’t. And if the world wasn’t safe for her, she had to make herself capable enough to take on the whole world.

Power. Control. Two things she wanted, two things Rasa encouraged, and she had them and wasn’t going to let them go. And power and control gave her something more – approval.

“You’re more than Rasa’s daughter,” Baki said. “Stop making every decision to please him.”

She sniffed, jerking her chin up. “I don’t.”

“You do. But it doesn’t matter how often I tell you that, it’s up to you to hear me.” Baki stared at her. “You want control. Then stop letting him control your life. It’s _your_ life, Temari. Your decisions. So decide who you want to be.”

He left her to ponder alone, going back to check on the boys and finish up the mission.

Temari picked blood and dirt from under her nails.

_Decide who you want to be._

She wanted to be better.


	14. The Mission

They didn’t often sit down for a meal together. Gaara was almost never there, and even now, he sat in complete silence, staring at his plate and not once lifting his eyes.

Rasa watched the older two for a while. Kankuro was filling out, gaining muscle, growing taller. He was losing his look of childish innocence, his face growing longer and harder. But he was relaxed, occasionally trading glances with Temari, as though they were able to speak without words.

Temari, of course, was Rasa’s main interest. She always was – as oldest and most experienced, she was a valuable asset to Suna that he exploited frequently. The silence continued, but Temari and Kankuro were smiling at each other between mouthfuls, and finally Rasa frowned.

“I need you for a mission in a few days.” Rasa sent Temari a look, calculating and dark.

She stopped eating, sensing something more was coming.

“Seduction mission; we need you as bait. I’ll find someone to teach you what you’ll need to know.” He continued on with his meal as though that wasn’t an earth shattering few sentences.

“Wh . . . what?” Temari’s voice faltered.

“You heard me.” Rasa didn’t look up again.

“Seduction . . .?”

“Yes. There’s a rogue shinobi we’ve been trying to pin down for years. He’s been kidnapping and trafficking girls, and I have finally got a definite location on him. I’ve sent a few kunoichi in already, none of them were able to finish the mission.”

She didn’t want to ask what that meant. “You want me to . . .?”

“Get him alone. He’s constantly surrounded by his bodyguards, unless he’s with a new girl. Once you have him, incapacitate him. It shouldn’t be too difficult for you. Do whatever is needed to get him alone – do you understand what I mean by that?”

Gaara looked up curiously.

Temari’s breath caught in her throat. She met Rasa’s eyes, very hesitantly.

“Clean yourself up a bit,” Rasa said, not even looking at her. “No one would be interested in you, looking the way you do.”

Temari stared at the table. She gripped at her knees tightly, trying to stop herself from shaking. She knew Kankuro was looking at her, but she couldn’t look at him as well. He shifted to the very edge of his seat, sitting fractionally closer to her.

Temari took in a deep breath. “I’m not old enough for a mission like that.”

“That’s the point. He favours younger girls.”

“You said you’d never ask me to do that,” Temari murmured. “You said I would never have to do those sort of missions . . .”

“You’re the best I have. Circumstances have changed, and I now I need you to step up and do what you’re asked.” Rasa considered the conversation over.

Temari sat very still in her seat, swallowing and working up the courage to speak again. Long minutes of silence had passed before she asked, “C-can . . . can I decline the mission?”

“I wasn’t asking if you were doing it, I was telling you,” Rasa replied shortly. He stood up; the movement made Temari flinch in her seat. “I’ll be in the office. Gaara, stay inside tonight.”

Gaara didn’t move. His eyes were on his sister, quietly curious.

Baki entered the room with a cursory rap on the wall to announce his presence. “I need Temari and Kankuro. We have training to complete tonight.”

“They’re all yours,” Rasa said, striding past him.

Kankuro hesitated. “Um, I don’t know if-“

Temari stood up abruptly, the angry squeal of her chair against the floor giving an indication of her agitation. She tried to storm away, but Baki caught her by the back of her shirt as she came near the door.

“Temari, where are you going?”

“I’m not going out with you today,” she snapped, trying to contort out of his grip. “Let me go!”

“What happened?” Baki asked firmly.

“Let me go!” she twisted around, trying to get a decent grip on his forearm.

“It’s a mission,” Kankuro provided, words coming slowly. “Dad just asked her about it . . .”

“ _Told_ ,” Temari corrected, shaking Baki’s arm. He didn’t let her go.

“What mission?”

“To do a . . .” Kankuro trailed off.

“He wants me to fuck a serial killer,” Temari snapped, voice rising, “I said _let me go!_ ”

Baki shook her slightly. “Hold on a minute. Care to explain?”

A frustrated growl sounded in Temari’s throat, and she kicked out at him, growing even more annoyed when he just pulled her aside so her kick missed.

“Kankuro, explain it to me properly.” Baki sounded very calm, even with a writhing, snarling child at the end of one arm.

Slightly pale-faced, Kankuro repeated all that Rasa had said. Baki didn’t comment, didn’t add anything, just listened. Temari grew quiet, finally standing still. When Kankuro was finished, Baki let Temari go.

“I’ll be back,” he said, in the darkest voice they had ever heard from him. “Training tonight is cancelled.”

 

Rasa was not expecting any interruptions, but there was a quiet knock at the door, and he called gruffly, “What?”

The door opened and Baki bowed shallowly. “Forgive my interruption, Kazekage-sama, but I need to speak with you about Temari.”

“What about?”

Baki straightened. “The mission she’s preparing for.”

“That.” Rasa returned his attention to his desk. He continued working. “There is nothing to discuss there. She’s going. She’s well-suited to the job.”

“Don’t make her do it,” Baki said quietly. He was out of line and overprotective, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. “There are better shinobi. There are others who can manage this. There’s no reason for it to be her.”

“Temari is more than capable,” Rasa said stiffly. “And it’s about time she started getting used to higher rank missions.”

“I agree,” Baki interjected. “But this is not the mission for her. She’s twelve, she won’t be good enough for what you’re asking.”

“She might as well gain the experience.”

“No, she . . .” Baki shook his head. “I will personally find someone else. But not her.”

“She will do it well, and she’ll do it right.” Rasa’s frown deepened. “She’s capable. She’s skilled. There is no reason not to send her – I know I can rely on her. She has an excellent record. She has never disappointed me before.”

“Think about what you’re asking her to do.”

“It’s nothing that I wouldn’t send any other kunoichi to do.”

“But she isn’t just any other kunoichi, is she?” Baki pressed. “I understand that this man needs to be taken down, but is Temari really the way you want to do that?”

Rasa didn’t answer, seemingly finished with the conversation.

“I can find someone better.” Baki bowed again, hoping to gain some sort of favour. “I’ll have them ready to go within two days. As her sensei, and the one most knowledgeable about her abilities right now, I don’t feel like she’s ready for a mission like this.”

“Give me one good reason,” Rasa frowned. “She’s incredibly skilled as a shinobi. She consistently performs well on missions. She’s smart and excellent at coming up with new strategies. She adapts well to situations. She’s politically informed – I can’t think of a single reason not to send her to do this.”

“Let me find someone else,” Baki repeated. “And if that fails, then send her in. Then I will concede there is no one better.”

Rasa met his eyes resolutely. “You have one chance. You may find one other person. If whoever you send in fails or gets killed, I’m dispatching Temari immediately.”

“Thank you, Kazekage-sama,” Baki bowed low. “I’ll get it sorted out immediately.”

 

Temari threw her fan against her bedroom wall, viciously pleased with the crack that appeared in the plaster. She followed that up by hurling the next nearest thing she could grab. A book made contact next, not producing a crack but at least helping her vent some of her ire.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, face in a snarl, eyes blazing. It made her pause, and take a moment to really look at herself. Her bangs were slightly knotted from the wind, from being pushed back frequently, and sweat from training had made grimy trails down her forehead and cheeks.

She didn’t think she looked like anyone good enough to pull off ‘seduction’. Maybe send someone running for their life, but there was no way in hell she was going to entice anyone into giving up secrets or lowering their guard. She wasn’t that type of girl.

Not the type of girl anyone would ever see themselves spending pleasurable time with. Not the type of girl to giggle demurely and sit back passively while some man had his way with her. No, that wasn’t what she was good at, and it never would be.

Girls like that were all about appearance. Girls like that were shallow and pretty, with long hair and long eyelashes. Girls like that didn’t have dirt under their nails and fire in their eyes.

_“Clean yourself up a bit,” Rasa had said. “No one would be interested in you, looking the way you do.”_

_Good_ , she thought. _I don’t want anyone interested in me like that. Maybe I won’t do a damn thing. Maybe I’ll make it worse._ The idea seized her abruptly, and after turning to kick at the foot of her bed, she upended her weapons’ pouch and grabbed the first kunai she laid her eyes on.

The metal felt cool and familiar in her hand – something those type of girls wouldn’t know about. Not those pretty ones, with their hair all neat and braided.

“If I don’t ‘look good enough’,” she muttered viciously, “Then I can’t do the mission. Then you won’t be able to force me to, because it won’t be the right look, or the right anything.” She glared at the mirror. Her narrowed, fiery teal eyes stared back at her, messy blonde hair flying away, out of her control. She had bitten a red mark into her lower lip from concentrating on training. Her teeth seized it again as she brought the kunai up to cut through the first of the four ties in her hair, getting rid of the other three in quick succession.

For a brief moment, her mother’s face stared back at her. Then Temari scowled, grabbing a fistful of blonde hair with her free hand and shifting her grip on the kunai.

“Temari!”

She whipped around, ready to snap at whoever it was.

“Don’t,” Baki said firmly. “Temari, put that weapon down.”

She glowered at him, but did not release her hold on the kunai.

“You’re not going on the mission. I’ve found someone else. So whatever you were planning, you don’t need to do it.”

She spun the kunai in her hand. “It wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t care either way. He doesn’t care if Gaara dies, he doesn’t care if we die.” She threw the kunai. It sunk into the wall. She turned back to the mirror. “He doesn’t care about anyone.”

Baki came a bit closer.

“He hates us,” Temari muttered, still staring at the mirror. “All three of us.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He _hates_ us,” she repeated.

“You’re not doing the mission.” Baki stopped beside her, and she turned away from the mirror to glare at him, blonde hair in a wild mess and eyes just as fiery and alight. “Calm down. And I know he doesn’t hate you – because he just told me how highly he views you and values you, and that’s why he wanted to send you.”

She snorted derisively, flicking her head to throw her bangs back out of her eyes. “Or because he doesn’t actually care and I just happen to be around.” She looked around for something to kick, anything to vent her frustration on.

“Come on,” Baki said softly. “I’m taking you and Kankuro out. Get your mind off it.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because you need to learn to deal with emotions in ways that don’t involve property damage.”

She stared at him, clearly considering her options. Then, flatly, she said, “I want to go dancing somewhere.”

Baki blinked. “What?”

“Dancing. I want to go.”

“We’re not doing that.”

“I’ll break the window.”

“Then go ahead and do it. After that, I’ll be with Kankuro, and we can discuss what you two want to do.” Baki left it at that, turning to leave the room.

“Wait!” Temari took half a step after him.

He looked at her over his shoulder.

“Can we . . . go to the border?” She stared at the floor. “We never get to be around trees.”

“That’s a day’s worth of travel.”

“I know, but . . . Please?” She took another half step towards him. “Kankuro can cut new wood for his puppets and I want to climb the trees, and just . . . and just not be in the desert for a while.”

Baki nodded. “Alright. We can leave tonight and cross the desert while its cooler.”

She wasn’t quite ready to smile, but she nodded, feeling pleased.

 

Gaara came with them, trailing behind Baki without saying a word.

In a sick, bizarre way, it was comforting to have him there. Even though he never spoke, he was a part of many missions, and the familiarity of having him around made Temari feel better. He was also helpful in uncertain situations.

The Fire Country border was not as heavily patrolled as the Wind Country, but it didn’t mean they could relax. They kept to the very edge of the tree line, constantly vigilant, but the change of scenery was welcomed.

Kankuro cut branches and logs in varying sizes, and Temari jumped experimentally from tree branch to tree branch, feeling how different it was to grip her chakra onto bark instead of onto sand. It wasn’t something she got to do often.

Being surrounded by green was slightly disorienting. The colours washed together and made it hard to see where one tree ended and another began. It was a bit nauseating, but she jumped resolutely from tree to tree anyway, getting the practice in, trying to acclimate to such a different terrain.

“Imagine living here,” Kankuro said, once they had settled side by side in the shade of a tree.

Baki was a little way off from them, giving them privacy to be alone, and they had no idea where Gaara had wandered to.

“It’d be . . . green,” Temari considered.

“I bet they never have to ration water. They probably have baths every day, or showers, for as long as they want. And think how much food could grow here.” Kankuro looked up at the canopy above him. “It’s weird to not have dust everywhere, all the time.”

“I don’t like it,” Temari murmured. “It’s too closed in. The desert is open and free. That’s where we belong.” The trees made her feel trapped and cloying. They cast shadows everywhere, and the visibility was limited. It wasn’t the wide-open expanses of home.

“Life would be easier here,” Kankuro continued.

“Yeah . . . But that’s a problem, too. Everyone says Konoha ninja are soft. Because they don’t have to struggle to survive.”

“Think Konoha’s just a bunch of wimps?”

“Maybe.”

They both looked to the side when Gaara approached them, falling silent. He stood a short distance away, just watching them.

Temari never knew what to say to him. He was always silent, and she worried about saying the wrong thing. His uncontrollable rage had never been directed at her and Kankuro before, but they had seen enough on missions to be wary. He could kill in an instant, and showed no remorse.

“Hey,” Kankuro said cautiously. “Wanna . . . sit with us?”

Gaara blinked at them, not adding anything. But, slowly, he sat down opposite them, crossing his legs and staring. After a tense, awkward silence, Baki joined them, completing their small, obscure circle.

With Baki present, Kankuro’s confidence grew, and he felt secure enough to turn slightly and lie down, head on Temari’s legs. She pulled his hood off and fidgeted her fingers through his hair, and Baki broke the silence, telling them of an old mission.

It was oddly peaceful, listening to him speak, with both her brothers close by.

Temari wondered if she would ever feel this relaxed in a shadow ever again.


	15. Shadows That Hold You Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was hideously uncomfortable to write.

Temari was slightly nervous as she knocked on the Kazekage’s office door. She was almost never called in alone – if there was a mission, Kankuro was at her side, and they were always briefed together. And Baki wasn’t in the village, so she didn’t have him to look to for advice.

“Temari,” Rasa sat behind his desk, looking weary. “The mission I mentioned a few days ago, that Baki took you off. You have it again.”

“Wait, the . . . the seduction mission?” Temari’s voice faltered slightly.

“Yes. The kunoichi Baki sent did not manage to complete it. So it’s going to you again.”

“Why me?” She swallowed hard. “There are other people who’ve done more of these, who would be better.”

“He’s killed the last four kunoichi we’ve sent in,” Rasa said flatly. “At least with you, I know the job will get done.”

“You know where he is, so why don’t you just send in an assassination squad?” Temari argued back.

“Because I want him alive!” Rasa stood up abruptly, and Temari flinched back. “He isn’t going to let an entire assassination squad near him. That’s why I need you. This is your mission, so get out there and get it done.”

She concentrated on breathing evenly, trying to keep her focus. There was no way around this. There was no way to say ‘no’. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

“Kankuro comes with me,” she said stubbornly. “Or I refuse.”

“You cannot refuse a mission.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “If Kankuro isn’t there, I won’t do it. I won’t do a damn thing, and you can’t make me.”

“We are trying to save lives,” Rasa snarled, gold dust swirling around him, around her, rising up in a deadly mist. “This is bigger than you. This is about more than you. You need to be more than selfish and entitled for this; you need to think of your village first. If you’re going to get uppity about shinobi dying in the line of duty then get out there and do something about it. This is your chance to really make a difference, to do something that will make the world safer for everyone. For _you_ ,” he said harshly. “Safer for you and every other girl who steps outside these village walls. So do what you’re told. Kankuro can go with you, but he cannot be near you during the mission. Understand?”

She held her ground, but her heart was pounding, and she had to work up the courage to speak without her voice shaking. “Fine.”

Rasa let out a loud breath, the dust around him settling. “You can leave tomorrow. Do not fail this.”

She stared at the floor, stomach churning, murmuring softly, “I won’t.”

 

“His current alias is Giza,” Kankuro whispered, crouched in the long grass. They were waiting for night to fall completely. They had watched Giza arrive at the small, out of the way tavern. It was a common stopping place for shinobi, and an equally common place for illicit deals to occur.

“How many trafficked girls do you think he’s brought through here?” Temari whispered. She wanted Kankuro to keep talking, to distract her from what she had to do. She wouldn’t have been nervous under normal circumstances – she was confident in her abilities to fight back - but for this ruse to work, she was almost entirely unarmed.

She desperately missed the weight of her fan on her back – she had nothing to use except a few well-concealed senbon needles. The loss of power made her nervous. It made her doubt herself. It made her afraid.

“I don’t want to do this,” she murmured.

Kankuro looked at her. His cheeks were round, eyes narrow, hardened beyond his years. There wasn't any comfort he could offer. “I’ll be out here. I’m close.”

“You’re not allowed to interfere,” Temari added. “Dad said not to – that only I’m allowed to go inside.”

He grunted. “I know. But you know . . . If something goes wrong, at least I’ll be close.”

“You won’t know it’s gone wrong until it’s gone too wrong to fix,” she mumbled. There was nothing she wanted more than to run away. But she knew she couldn’t. She had to do this – because Rasa wanted her to. She drew in a long, grounding breath. “I’m going in.”

“Be careful,” Kankuro said, settling into a more comfortable position. “Take him down before can even touch you, okay? Kick his ass.”

She swallowed. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

Before she could lose her nerve, she sped across the grass.

 

Finding Giza inside was easy enough.

She caught his eye, watching him coolly as he discussed something with three other men in low, hushed tones. Her only real challenge was the order to get him alone – and the methods she might need to do that. She was gathering her confidence when he approached her first.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he said. He made no secret of the fact that he was looking her up and down.

Temari stood her ground. “I’m just passing through on my way elsewhere.”

“You look like you’ve had a long journey.” Giza smiled, sickly sweet and false. “I’ve got a room upstairs, if you want to rest.”

She didn’t think it would be that easy. A fraction of her worried dissolved. “Sure.”

He closed his hand around her upper arm, walking confidently.

She twitched at his touch, trying not to react with an instant attack. _It’s easier when he’s separated from everyone else_ , she reminded herself. _You can defend yourself then._

She worked to keep calm, trying to follow Giza’s lead as demurely as she could.

He led her to a small room above the rest of the tavern, and locked the door.

The room was dark and plain, simple wooden floors, and the curtains drawn over small windows.

Temari breathed carefully, trying not give away either her nerves or intentions.

Giza faced her, his back resting lightly against the door. He eyed her again, shrewdly, taking her all in.

She resisted the urge to reach instantly for the few senbon she had. She didn’t want things to escalate into a fight before she was ready. And, if possible, she wanted to lull him into complacency, so he didn’t realize he was trapped.

He smirked.

“There’s no point in playing games. I know you’re here to try to arrest me and bring me into Suna.”

Temari didn’t flinch. She stood still, betraying nothing.

“So they sent in Suna’s princess,” the man chuckled darkly, and Temari got the distinct impression that he was not the one trapped. “Suna has been hunting me for years; did they think I wouldn’t know who you are?”

She readied herself, chakra flicking upwards.

“Seems like you’d be too valuable to risk in a mission like this, but then, I suppose, Suna has always been more cavalier with lives than other villages. Little Princess, no other village would work you the way they do.” He approached, not yet close enough to touch, but close enough to raise the hairs on the back of Temari’s neck. “They treat you like you’re expendable. Like you don’t matter. They make you live with a demon, and in a village where you can’t even walk the streets at night without worrying about what will happen to you.”

Temari stood her ground, but her heart was speeding up.

“You need to be aware of every shadow and all the dangers within them,” Giza continued softly. “All the darkness that they hold. That’s why that desert suits you, because it doesn’t have many shadows. And when it does, they’re dangerous. There’s no safety in the shadows. They’ll never bring comfort, they’ll never support you. They won’t hold you and keep you steady. Shadows hold nothing but fear. And, my dear,” he was too close, _too close_ , and Temari was not equipped for this mission, “This room is nothing but shadows.”

She struck first, panic slamming in, making a wild attempt to slash at his jugular with the few senbon she had on her. Her strike was blocked, rebutted, and the next thing she knew she was pinned on her back, head cracking painfully against the floor.

Her first instinct was to kick out. Her first realisation was that she couldn’t, that his body pinned her down, heavy and hard against her. She had no idea her heart could beat as fast as it was now, thoroughly helpless and unable to think her way out of the situation.

_Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic_ – She couldn’t even begin to take her own advice.

Giza moved slightly, and she tensed, testing his hold, trying almost desperately to break free.

“No, no,” he said. “You don’t get to escape. Settle down, Princess, and stop fighting. Just lie there and behave.”

He settled over her, scrutinizing her face. She could feel her heart thumping high in her chest, feel his calm and controlled breathing. His stare was terrifying. It felt dehumanizing, like he wasn’t even seeing her as a person – just a conquest, just a victory, just nothing.

She closed her eyes, trying to get a grip on herself. When she opened them again, he was still staring at her.

All her father’s warnings made terrible, clarifying sense.

Giza shifted her wrists to one hand, pressing his full weight onto her. She could feel the bones of her arm crushing into the floor, and tried to breathe, tried to plan. She could do this. She could figure this out. She could handle this. Rasa’s daughter could handle anything.

“It’s a pity you won’t live long enough to let Rasa know you would have been excellent at your job,” he ran the back of a finger down her cheek. “You look like you’ve got the fire to do it well. Now, how many weapons are you hiding on you?”

Temari trembled slightly, muscles straining against his hold.

Giza’s hand trailed downwards, down one side of her ribs, then the other. He watched her, impassive but very much in control, as she closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying to get a grip on her own emotions. _Stop panicking, stop panicking –_

He shifted his weight very slightly so his hand could run down the outside of her thigh, and find the small pouch stuffed with senbon.

“Did you really think you could take me down with nothing but a few needles? I think Rasa overestimated you.” He pulled a few senbon free, twirling one casually in his hand, before throwing it with terrifyingly accurate precision.

It flew past her cheek, hitting the floor with a soft _thunk_ , the silvery edge touching, but not cutting, her face. Temari flinched slightly.

“I could take you with me,” he mused, the tip of the next senbon resting against her throat. “Wouldn’t that be a good idea? You’d make a nice hostage and, from the looks of it, a pretty nice fuck. With some training, of course; I don’t like it when my girls fight back.”

She stayed very still, trying to plan something. Her heart was pounding so loudly, almost distracting her from thinking. He shifted above her, and she turned her head slightly. The senbon at her neck relieved its pressure, the one near her cheek pressed harder against her. She was mentally judging its length, calculating how much was embedded in the floor, how much force was needed to remove it.

“I’m sure Rasa’s told you before,” Giza removed the needle from near her neck, setting it down on the floor so he could reach that hand forward to run it through her hair. “But you look just like your mother.”

In one swift movement, she clutched her teeth around the senbon in the floor, jerking her head to pull it free, one end held firmly in her jaws, and she stabbed the other end as hard as she could into the arm that held her wrists pinned. She didn’t have a huge range of motion with only her neck free, but she managed, feeling the needle slide into flesh.

With a surprised shout, Giza’s grip loosened, and that was all she needed. She jerked her hands free, grabbing both his wrists and sitting up, using whatever momentum she could muster to force him back. Using his surprise to her advantage, she snatched up the discarded senbon and drove it through his palm, pinning one hand to the floor, yanking the other senbon from his arm and pinning it through his other palm, before throwing her weight onto him, sitting on his chest with one hand clutched hard around his neck.

“I do _not_ look like my mother,” she hissed.

Giza smirked, unintimidated, even being held down. “Temari, darling, you wish you didn’t, but I knew her.”

“Shut up,” she snarled, the hand around his neck trembling slightly. She just needed squeeze a bit more. Just a bit more and he’d _shut up_ , and he’d stop causing trouble, and he would never touch her again. Her eyes flicked to his hands as he began to pull them free off the senbons, and she let his neck go long enough to pin his wrists again.

“That all you’ve got?” he goaded. “What are you going to do, sit there until I give in?”

“No,” she said darkly. She had two more senbon on her, and one on the floor. Speed was crucial, she had to move faster than he could, had to get her weapons before he could tear his hands free. She let him go, and Giza reacted instantly, yanking his hands off the needles to grab at her again. She was quick enough to grab the last two senbon, but not quick enough to pin him before he forced himself upright, throwing her backwards.

Years of training and warnings had taught her not to fall on her back, and she twisted enough to get a hand braced on the floor, spinning around to launch at him once more. She threw one senbon, accurately sending it into Giza’s cheek, and it made him pause, as he had fully expected her to fall and be unable to fight for at least a second.

A second was all she needed. She swept his feet out from under him, throwing him face down onto the floor. The last senbon went through his wrist, and she pinned both his arms down, her weight on his back, keeping him as flat as possible so he had no room to gain leverage to throw her off.

While he swore and spat at her, she struggled to regain her breath, trying to quell her panicked breathing. Her heart was still racing, but now that the danger was mostly contained, her usual instincts were returning.

She ripped the last senbon from his arm, ignoring the scream of anguish it earned, and leaned heavily onto both his wrists, not willing to take the risk of him breaking free. Her breathing was still erratic, but she could feel herself calming. There was a lot more to do, though. She had to find some way to immobilize him.

She twirled the needle around her fingers. He thought he could scare her and make her helpless. It seemed like a great time to turn the tables.

“I’m supposed to bring you in alive,” she said breathlessly, sitting back slightly. “But no one said what state of alive.” She toyed with the last senbon, laying the tip against the back of his neck. “I’m going to assume it means breathing.”

“Get off me,” Giza growled.

“How many women have asked you that?” she said darkly. “And how many did you listen to? How many asked you to leave them alone?” She pressed the tip against his skin, almost piercing it. “How many of them begged you to get off them?”

The needle pierced skin, sliding smoothly into flesh.

She held it in place. “You think I’m like my mother? You’re wrong there. Because she wasn’t cruel, and she wouldn’t do what I’m about to do. I’m Rasa’s daughter,” she hissed, sliding the needle in further, until she felt the strong resistance of spinal cartilage, and then Giza started screaming, seized by panic. It sparked a low twist of heat in her gut, the thrill of turning the tables, almost overcoming the fear that had been flooding her. “And his child does not fear shadows.”

With one sharp movement, she shoved the senbon right through his spinal column, uncaring of what she severed. The screaming cut off abruptly, giving way to eerie silence. At best he would be able to talk and move, at worst, only breathe. And she didn’t care.

He lay silent underneath her now, expression vacant, mouth slightly open and drool dripping out.

“You might be able to hear me,” she said, getting up. “And if you can – you will never get up and walk away from this. You’re done.” She tried to calm her breathing. “And you’ll be the last person in the world to ever hold me down.”


	16. The Cruellest Kunoichi

She held it together until she and Kankuro were finally alone. He closed the door to her room before facing her. “Tem?”

She chewed on the tip of her thumb.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” She wasn’t. She was reliving every moment of being pinned down, of being at the mercy of someone so much stronger than her. She was rattled and shaken, unable to rid the feeling of fear. Of vulnerability. Of being dominated and helplessly unable to fight back. It lingered, despite her victory.

Kankuro didn’t look happy with her answer. “You don’t look fine.”

“I am.” She pulled the ties from her hair, shaking it loose. She moved away from him, moving to the mirror to seek out her hairbrush.

“He scared you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Temari snapped. She stared down, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Kankuro fell silent for a moment. Once she had settled into a rhythm of dragging the brush through her hair, he said softly, “I was scared.”

Temari’s movements paused.

“I was scared he got you. I was scared of what he might be doing to you. But I couldn’t go in because that wasn’t the mission . . . And then I was scared I would make the wrong choice and something would happen to you, and I let it happen because I wanted Dad to be proud of me instead of looking after you . . .”

Temari met his eyes in the mirror.

“Statistically, I’ll be okay. But you . . . Dad tells horrible stories about women. About things done to them. And it wasn’t that long ago when a lot of it happened, and some of it happens still.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. She didn’t have a choice. She had to be fine. Nothing could rattle her; nothing could scare her. She couldn’t allow it to.

“Tem.”

“I said I’m _fine_.”

Kankuro looked away with a short huff. Finally, with an annoyed expression, he caught her wrist as it moved, pulling the brush from her hand and setting it down.

Temari spun around, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“I know you. You’re not fine. That guy . . . he . . . he tried to hurt you. Tem,” he said, holding on when she tried to pull away. “We’re used to being hurt. But not like that.”

She stared at him, feeling her bravado fading.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Kankuro swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’d do if something had happened to you.”

Temari felt her throat tighten. She tried to be angry at herself, tried to quell her emotions. But she just couldn’t. Her vision blurred with tears, and she felt something heavy rise up in her chest. She hated to admit it, but she had been terrified. Terrified, and so, _so_ helpless, and she couldn’t stand feeling like that. It felt awful and sickening.

Kankuro’s voice shook a bit. “So don’t tell me you’re fine when I know you’re not . . .”

“I’m fine,” she repeated thinly, edging closer to him. She didn’t know what she was seeking, maybe warmth, maybe comfort. “I’m fine.”

She pressed her face to his shoulder, arms snaking around his torso, and when he held her back, firm and warm, she let her tears spill over and sobbed into him. They clung to each other, and she didn’t even feel ashamed for crying. Not when it was Kankuro. She could feel whatever she wanted around him.

“Don’t let me go,” she said, when she felt him loosen his embrace.

He held tight again. “I won’t.”

He tightened his grip on her almost desperately when she sobbed against him, repeating, in a low voice laced with conviction, “I won’t ever.”

They spent the night huddled together in her bed.

 

“You were supposed to bring him in _alive_!” Rasa roared, hands slamming on his desk as he stood up, and Temari flinched back a step.

“I did,” she muttered sullenly.

“He’s a fucking useless _vegetable_ ,” Rasa continued. “That barely counts as alive! What were you thinking?”

“He tried to hurt me,” Temari murmured. “I just fought back.”

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Usually, Rasa praised her for fighting back. Usually, he paid attention to her, in a smile or a soft word, or a hand on her head.

“I did what you said,” she said, voice almost desperate, because he was supposed to be proud of this mission, he was supposed to be pleased with her, because she had done what no one else could. _Please, please tell me you’re proud of me and what I did, please_. “I did the mission, I did everything you wanted.”

She had gone through fear like she couldn’t have imagined just trying to finish what Rasa asked of her.

He sat down again, expression still fierce. “Get out, Temari. Go home. I’ll let you know when I need you again.”

“I did what you said,” she repeated, because for all the fear and all the panic there had to be a payoff. “He tried to hurt me, and I didn’t let him. He screamed for me to stop, and I _didn’t_. I hurt him back, just like you always want me to-“

“Get out, Temari,” Rasa said again. “Go and rest. Go and . . . go and do something that doesn’t bother me.”

She swallowed hard. Disappointment lay thickly in her gut, and she didn’t have the energy to fight for more. With a short nod, head down, she left his office and trudged home.

Baki was there already, speaking to Gaara in a low voice, but he turned his attention to her as she plodded through the house.

“Temari,” he said, but she didn’t even glance at him.

She stomped past, swiftly side stepping as he reached a hand towards her. “Leave me alone.”

Baki called her again, but she didn’t look back. She went to her room, throwing her fan down, slamming the door. Then she stood in the middle of the floor, chest heaving slightly. There was a lot twisting through her – anger, and disappointment and bitterness. And the last few threads of fear.

And that’s what she needed to get rid of.

_I can do it again_ , she thought. Find someone. Find the same situation. And not be afraid.

With the idea solidifying in her mind, she threw her window open, hopping out and down into the streets below. No weapons on her, nothing to defend herself with . . . the danger thrilled her a little. Made her heart pound in a strange and interesting way.

She wandered around, hoping to find Daimaru, because she knew she had power over him. She knew she could manipulate him. She could get whatever she wanted out of him, whatever she couldn’t get from Rasa.

He was in none of his usual spots, and she was about to give up when another voice broke in. “Princess?”

She glanced over at the boy sitting in the shade. She recognised him. “You’re Daimaru’s friend, aren’t you?”

“Jade,” he supplied. “Daimaru is on a training exercise.”

She stalked over to him, towering above him. He stood up quickly, long and lanky and much, much taller than her.

“Pin me down,” she said boldly.

“What?”

“Just try it. Just attack me and see what you can do.”

“I’m not insane, Princess, that’s not gonna happen. The Kazekage will kill me-“

“ _I’ll_ kill you,” she snarled. “ _He_ doesn’t matter! _I_ matter! Look at _me_ , listen to _me_ , don’t think about anyone else!”

Jade stayed frozen uncertainly in place.

With a frustrated growl, Temari leapt at him. He defended automatically, moving aside, countering her lunge. His fist caught her on the shoulder, and she spun around. They tussled for a while, with Jade trying his best to keep his distance, and Temari relentlessly moving into close quarters.

Eventually, she slammed him into the sand, a hand around his throat, eyes bright and wild.

The sand was burning hot beneath her knees, she felt his abdominal muscles clench under her, and he stared at her with eyes wide with fear. That’s what she wanted.

That’s what she needed.

Jade’s expression suddenly grew stricken, and a shadow fell over them both.

“Baki!” Temari’s head spun around, eyes wide. “I wasn’t . . .”

He didn’t look at her. He glared at the boy, who paled. Baki’s expression was unreadable, but Temari knew he kept his emotions well concealed.

She gulped. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong . . .”

“Get off him,” Baki said quietly.

Temari stood up quickly, backing away from Jade. He sat up very, very slowly, all motions as smooth and non-threatening as possible. To Temari’s surprise, Baki didn’t say anything further to the boy. He swept his gaze over him, then turned to leave, and Temari fell into step at his side.

She didn’t say anything as they walked home, just kept her scowl facing downwards.

“Temari,” Baki said, after a long, tense silence. “I know that mission bothered you.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered.

“You’re not fine. What were you doing? Fighting boys so that you could feel powerful? Trying to gain back some illusion of control that you felt Giza took from you?”

She sniffed. “No.”

“It looked like it.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is, because you’re a part of my team, and I need to know if you’re going to be a liability because of some issue you need to work out.”

“I’m not a liability,” she snapped hotly, head whipping around to glare at Baki. “I’m Suna’s princess, I’m Rasa’s daughter, I fear _nothing_ and I am not a liability!”

Baki stayed calm in the face of her outburst. He studied her carefully. She was all fire and spirit, teal eyes ablaze, expression in a snarl. He sighed lightly. “Rasa’s daughter, huh?”

She snorted, looking away again. “Not afraid of anything.”

Not of men, not of shadows, not of anything.

Baki laid a hand on her shoulder, in an unusual, but not unwelcomed, display of affection. “Temari, I know. I know you’re not afraid of anything – it’s why you’ve survived this long and it’s why you’ll help Suna in the future. Your father didn’t tell you to be careful of the men around here to scare you – but to teach you. You had to learn how dangerous the world was, so that you could rise above it.”

She didn’t acknowledge him. She meant to shrug his hand off her shoulder, but for some reason couldn’t bring herself to.

“Giza tested you. That mission put your skills and resolve to the test, and you passed. You managed. So listen to me when I say you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You don’t need to go out and put yourself into dangerous situations. You don’t need to go and prove you’re stronger than any man here, and you don’t need to take advantage of boys too scared to say no to you.”

He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “We all know you’re Rasa’s daughter, and the world knows it too. You’re doing fine. Don’t throw yourself somewhere you don’t need to be.”

“Wanna be noticed,” she mumbled.

“Rasa does notice you. He sends you fearlessly on missions because he knows you’ll come home safely. He trusts you with everything in this village because he knows you’ll do the right thing for it. You are doing just fine, Princess. So maybe leave boys alone for a while, and focus on yourself?”

Temari shrugged. Boys paid attention to her, though, and she liked that. Some of them watched her warily as she passed, and those that watched her differently could be silenced with a glare, with a warning hand on her fan.

“I’m giving you a week off,” Baki said. “I want you to think about yourself only. Train if you want, rest if you want. But just think about where you want to go.”

“I like what they’re calling me,” she said softly, because she had heard rumours and paid attention to whispers and gossip.

“Take some time off, Temari,” Baki repeated, sounding weary.

“They call me the cruellest kunoichi, you know.”

“I know. I’ve heard.”

She held her head up proudly. “Everyone’s gonna know who I am, and that they can’t mess with me.”

Baki patted her shoulder lightly. “Good girl. Suna is proud of you.”

She sent him a curious, sideways glance when he added, very softly, as though she wasn’t supposed to hear, “I’m proud of you, too.”

But she wanted Rasa to be.


	17. Dance With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little fun chapter here. We needed some chill time.

It had been several months since the Giza incident, and things were feeling normal again. Baki pushed the three siblings relentlessly in missions, determined that Temari would never again find herself over-powered or underprepared. The increase in work and training was welcomed.

It gave Temari a secure routine to look forward to, and she was enjoying spending time with both brothers, even if she only really spoke to Kankuro. Having Gaara around was a strange mix of terrifying and relaxing, even though, as he grew older, he grew sullener and more withdrawn.

Her birthday passed unassumingly, as it always did. Nothing changed. Missions went on the same as usual, Baki didn’t make any changes or exceptions. Rasa didn’t say anything.

But in the evening, Temari and Kankuro climbed onto the roof to look at the stars and share chocolate that Kankuro had thoughtfully kept hidden for just such occasions. Gaara joined them, sitting a short distance away, looking disinterested and not making eye contact with either of them, but he smiled when they laughed, and he watched longingly after they left.

Now, things were less tense than usual.

Gaara hadn’t come out of his room all day, and neither Kankuro nor Temari were inclined to bother him if it was going to be one of those days, but his brooding didn’t have an aura of danger around it. It was just a normal day, where Gaara refused to talk to anyone.

When Rasa came home for dinner, Temari shouted from the other side of the house that dinner was ready and Gaara should come out to eat, but she didn’t really care if he didn’t. He would come out when he was ready.

The largest of the food caravans had been safely escorted into Suna, and it was a rare day of having an abundance of food in the house. Kankuro had been quite excited, and had kicked Temari out of the kitchen when she offered to help, so she wouldn’t interfere with his cooking.

He was oddly skilled at it. Temari knew he could make carrion taste delicious, so she wasn’t one to complain when he chose to cook alone.

His masterpiece tonight was curry, and even Rasa had given him an approving nod.

No one spoke much over dinner, and Temari almost finished when Rasa finally broke the silence.

“I need one of you to come with me to the Daimyo’s Estate,” Rasa said shortly. “Figure out who.”

“Not going,” Kankuro said instantly, and Temari shot him a look.

Rasa looked at her, and Temari sighed. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“There will be a formal dinner and ball on the second night. I expect you’ll behave appropriately.” There was a warning edge to his words, and Kankuro chuckled under his breath.

“Try not to attack too many princesses, like you did last time,” he muttered, words laced with a grin.

Temari stuck her tongue out at him.

“You two. Behave.” Rasa’s eyes narrowed. He studied Temari for a moment. “I need to know you won’t be a complete embarrassment. And won’t lay a hand on Uzuri.”

“I’ll try not to be, but if that bitch-“

Rasa’s expression darkened, and Temari rethought her words.

“If,” she tried again, “That . . . _delightful princess_ . . . gives me any shit – any trouble?”

Kankuro snorted, and Temari sighed.

“Okay, fine, I’ll be good. I won’t do anything stupid. But then can I not sit near her for the dinner? I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep quiet for an entire dinner.” Temari and Uzuri had crossed paths once or twice in the following years, and Temari’s dislike for the River princess remained as passionate as it always had been. Time and interactions had done nothing for her attitude.

“You’ll sit with me where I can keep an eye on you,” Rasa said. “And do not mess this up. If we can get the support we need from the dignitaries there, we can hopefully improve our infrastructure. My main goal is to get more wells drilled, but that’s not going to happen if you start an international feud.”

“We did decide her future wouldn’t lie in politics,” Kankuro mused. “Certainly not in anything regarding relations with other villages.”

Temari kicked him under the table, and he kicked back.

Surprisingly, Rasa gave up reprimanding them. “We’ll leave in three days. I’ll get you a decent dress before then.”

Temari lit up a bit. She loved being spoiled. “Purple, please?”

“Fine.”

“And thin straps for sleeves? Not long sleeves.”

“Fine.”

“And a long skirt, so I can dance in it and it’ll swirl around?”

Rasa looked at her sharply, and Temari shrank in her seat a bit. She fell silent, gaze dropping down.

“Kankuro,” Rasa began. “While we’re away, you’ll be shadowing the council and learning more about running this country. Baki will take Gaara out for a special mission.”

“Okay.”

Temari poked at her food, and the room fell into an awkward silence. She hated when Rasa came home for meals, much preferring when it was just her and Kankuro, and occasionally Gaara. Those were the best meals, with good conversations. She never felt like she was allowed to laugh in front of her father.

She was done with her food, about to leave the table, when Rasa spoke again.

“I’ll have your dress in two days. Try it on, and see to any alterations that need to be made. And, Temari,” he waited until she was looking at him. “Do not disappoint me.”

“I won’t,” she murmured. “Can I go now?”

“Fine. Make sure Gaara eats something later.”

“Okay,” she slunk away, glad to be away from him. She went to her room, closing the door, and flopping onto her bed to brood.

 

The dress was gorgeous.

Soft folds of fabric that shimmered and fell like water, in a beautiful light purple that darkened towards the bottom of the skirt. She kicked her door half closed and stripped, pulling the dress on eagerly. The low back felt good, the thin straps over her shoulders sat just right against her skin.

She was admiring herself in front of the mirror, definitely not twirling at all, when Kankuro came into her room and burst out laughing.

“ _What_?” she asked hotly, spinning around to snarl at him.

“You’re doing a great job pretending to be a girl,” Kankuro drawled. He flopped onto her bed.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “You’re doing a barely passable impression of a human being.” She stuck her tongue out at him, turning away again to look at the mirror. It felt weird. She didn’t look like herself.

She felt special. She loved how soft this dress felt against her skin.

She liked pretty things and soft fabrics, and lacy dresses. She just never got a chance to wear them or be near them. Being a shinobi didn’t give her much time for nice things.

And Kankuro was howling in laughter on her bed, holding his sides, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “You look . . . like a . . . puffball.”

“Shut up,” she growled. “It’s beautiful.” She did her best to ignore him. She went back to admiring herself. The tan lines on her shoulders looked weird. She turned around to see how her back looked. Also weird; her neck was so much darker than her upper back. Maybe she could even it out before going to the Estate.

She spun to Kankuro again, and demanded, “Dance with me.”

“What?” He shot upright. “Ugh, Tem, no.”

“Yes. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“How? It’s never fun.” He groaned, flopping onto his back again.

“It’s been ages.” She sauntered to him, grabbing his wrist firmly. “I won’t bother you about girl stuff for a month if you dance with me.”

He stayed deliberately still, eying her.

“I won’t tell you all about my period and how gross it is-“

“Tem,” he groaned. “Stop being disgusting.”

“Or how my bra doesn’t fit right or-“

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, swinging off the bed. “Geez, you’re a pain. Look, I’m up, we can dance.”

She grinned at him, stepping into position. “You don’t have to make it sound like it’s the worst thing you’ve done all year. You’re allowed to have fun.”

“Nothing as fun as your sister bullying you into doing something,” Kankuro said dryly. “You lead; I always forget the steps.”

“Ass.” She gripped him lightly. “How many years did we spend learning this shit for fancy diplomatic visits, and you still can’t do it without me leading you?”

“I’m the artist in the family,” Kankuro pointed out, moving somewhat clumsily at first, as Temari did not believe in learning curves and just dragged him around her room with high expectations. “You’re the dancer.”

“Shinobi shouldn’t be so clumsy,” she murmured. “Twirl me around.”

“I’ll throw you out the window,” Kankuro sighed, but he obliged, grinning as Temari laughed a little, before falling back into position and dragging him around some more. They were silent for a bit, and she was lost in thought before realizing Kankuro was watching her face carefully.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Kankuro shrugged. “It’s just . . . it’s nice to see you smiling so much.”

There was the silent add on of ‘especially after the Giza mission that terrified you so much’.

She dropped her gaze downwards. “It’s nice to dance with you.”

“So, are you gonna, like, flirt with all the boys when you’re at the Estate?” he asked, and she laughed.

“I wouldn’t know how to flirt.”

“I think you just have to flutter your eyelashes and be nice to people.”

“Then I _really_ don’t know how to flirt.”

Kankuro stopped dancing to snort and snicker. “Yeah, you’d be terrible at it.”

Temari grinned. “What? Are you implying I’m not nice to people?”

“You’re never nice,” Kankuro retorted, “And you know it.”

“You’re saying I’ll never get a boy to like me?”

“Not with your attitude.”

“Heh. Oh well. I can handle being single my whole life.”

“Good to know,” Kankuro returned her grin as she pulled him along once again. “Because you’re definitely going to be.”


	18. There Are Other People

Temari and Rasa didn’t speak on the journey to the Estate. Rasa strode purposefully, never once looking at her, and Temari didn’t care. She kept off to one side, not caring if she looked like a sullen teenager, because she was one.

They met the daimyo first, and Rasa left Temari under the watchful eye of their Anbu team while he had a meeting. She ended up wandering the gardens, before exploring the mansion. There were a few days of meetings, some of which she sat in on for the experience, and she spent the evenings longing for the ball so she could finally wear her dress and coerce someone into dancing with her.

The night of the ball was clear and calm, and Temari took her time getting ready, feeling excited at finally doing something interesting and different.

She was still exceptionally pleased with the dress, admiring it in the mirror once again. She spun around once, smiling at her reflection, only stopping when there was a sharp knock on her door.

“Temari,” Rasa said gruffly. “What is taking so long?”

“Nothing, I’m ready,” she called, pausing to look at herself once more. She straightened one strap that had slipped off her shoulder, then skipped to the door and pulled it open.

Rasa sighed. “Remember not to murder anyone.”

“I won’t.” She didn’t sound very reassuring, but she also didn’t care.

Rasa nodded once, and walked down the hall. She followed behind him, wondering if there would be anyone to dance with her. She stared at Rasa’s back. What would it take to convince him?

She couldn’t muster the courage to ask, just trailed behind him until they reached the ballroom. It was lavishly decorated, with a long table on one side, piled high with ornate dishes and centre pieces. She didn’t really care about any of that – fancy stuff didn’t appeal to her; she was more interested in standing her tiptoes to see over Rasa’s shoulder and check if anyone was on the dance floor.

Rasa didn’t let her look for long, leading her through throngs of people. She followed reluctantly, stopping when he stopped and going through the tedious motions of greeting people she didn’t know and didn’t care about.

She stood at his side in a huff as Rasa spoke seriously to a group of older men.

Temari fidgeted with her dress, mind wandering, until someone approached her. She looked up, suppressing a loud groan as Uzuri stalked up to her, looking as regal as ever.

_Do not punch her_ , Temari reminded herself. She felt Rasa turn slightly to check on her.

“Hey, Temari,” the River Princess sneered. “Haven’t seen you in a few years. Still pulling girls’ hair?”

“Still riding on your father’s coattails?” Temari snapped back.

Rasa cleared his throat warningly, and Temari bit back her next retort. She took in a deep, calming breath, and stayed silent.

Uzuri smirked, “Oh, so you can be trained. Guess your daddy can’t let you out of his sight in case you cause trouble, huh?”

Temari growled slightly, body leaning forward on instinct. Rasa’s hand clamped down onto her shoulder, and he pulled her back.

“Temari, come with me.” His tone left no room for argument.

Temari threw the filthiest glare she could muster at Uzuri before being dragged away.

“Try to keep out of trouble for one evening,” Rasa said in a low voice. “I have to speak with some people now. I trust I can leave you alone?”

“Yes,” she said sullenly.

Rasa let her go. “Good. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Temari sniffed, tossing her head slightly. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Rasa’s back as he walked away. She heard Uzuri laugh, high pitched and fake, and turned her glare towards the sound. Uzuri wasn’t looking at her, and Temari took the time to mentally swear at her.

“She can be irritating, can’t she?” A voice interrupted.

Temari whipped around to see a boy watching her. His black hair was just too long to be called short, and he held himself upright with a stiff, well-practiced posture.

“Yeah,” she agreed cautiously.

“So demanding,” the boy continued. “I can see you find her annoying. She annoys me as well, sometimes.”

Bonding over a mutual dislike of someone was something Temari was good at, but she wasn’t sure about this boy, and the way he remained stiff and unyielding, as though afraid to relax.

She kept half an eye on him as he watched her. His shirt looked uncomfortable – high collared and starched, with beautiful embroidery and ornate gold buttons that looked heavy. No wonder he stood so straight, he probably couldn’t bend over in it.

She could feel Rasa’s eyes on her, mentally warning her not to do anything drastic. She sighed, gathering her patience, and attempted a civil conversation. “So . . . what do you do around here?”

“Sit around, mostly,” the boy answered, with a one shouldered shrug. “I did all the shinobi training, and almost never use it. Mostly I’m just here, in these grounds, helping my father and keeping things running smoothly. It’s . . . it can be tedious.”

She nodded, unsure of how to continue. Small talk was not something she had been taught.

“My name’s Laini,” he added after a pause.

“Temari.”

“I know. You’re well known. My father is close to yours.” His eyes were blue. Not as striking as Daimaru’s, but still interesting. “Your hair is very pretty.”

That got her attention, and she straightened up a bit, slightly surprised. That wasn’t something she was used to hearing. It wasn’t something she knew how to react to. “Oh.”

He smiled again, and it looked very genuine. Temari’s wariness wavered slightly, her father’s warnings fading away. Sure, men were dangerous, should be avoided, but just one man, singular, was probably fine. And if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though she was afraid of danger.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, and Temari didn’t need more than a second to think of an answer.

“Yes.”

To her continued surprise, he moved first, and offered her his hand. It forced a smile onto her face as well, and she took it, letting him lead her onto the dance floor.

“I may be out of practice,” he warned, “It’s been a while since I had a partner.”

“It’s okay.” She chanced a glance at her father. He relaxed when she met his eyes, almost smiling, and she tore her gaze away, cheeks flushing pink at his approval.

Laini was a better dancer than Kankuro. He kept up a constant conversation, and Temari found him quite easy to talk to. He even coaxed a few genuine laughs out of her. She edged a bit closer to him, happily answering questions and learning about him. He seemed nice. She liked how his hand lingered on her shoulder, thumb brushing an absent pattern against her bare skin, occasionally catching the strap of her dress.

“Hey,” he said, after a few minutes. “Come with me.”

He led her outside, away from the talking and the prying eyes, and down a winding garden path until there was nothing but the two of them, and moonlight.

She looked around. There were a few small trees around them, and more low bushes, and grass under her feet. A wall with an intricately mosaiced pattern was a bit to her left, blocking off another section of the garden. It was a beautiful place, so much fuller than the open expanses of Suna. “Why are we here?”

“We can go back if you want. I thought it might be nice to get away from everyone else for a while. I don’t like crowds and parties.” He stayed close to her. She could still hear the music, and wondered if he would dance with her some more. He was looking at her, up and down, and she glared at him. “You always look so angry all the time.”

“Maybe it’s because I am,” she retorted.

He smiled at her; a charming, quieting smile that almost made her relax a bit. Until he slid his hands up her arms, in a feather light touch, until his hands were on her shoulders. She waited, tensely, wondering what he would do next.

He looked at her, studying the vibrant teal of her eyes, and the sandy blonde of her bangs, and her closed, wary expression. “You’re not like the other girls I know.”

She stayed still, staring at his eyes. There was a twinge of nervousness in her stomach, and all her muscles tensed automatically, getting ready in case she needed to do something.

“You’re more real than them,” his fingers traced light patterns on the bare skin of her upper arms. “They’re all sheltered and fake . . . no idea how the world really works. You do things. I’ve seen your mission record.”

“You . . . what?” she frowned. “How did you see that?”

“Because when you father’s the Daimyo you can do pretty much anything you want,” his smile was gentle and disarming, fingers still tracing aimless patterns. She liked how it felt. It was soft and warm. “And you interest me.”

She took a step back, breaking his hold on her. Her eyes stayed locked on his, but there was a touch of defiance now present within her depths of teal. “Interest you?”

“I’m no match for you, Temari, and we both know it. Not in physical power. You’re incredible.” He closed the gap again, and she stood her ground. He returned his hands to her shoulders, and this time earned a very cautious, guarded smile from her. “I came to the ball tonight because Uzuri mentioned you would be here. And I wanted to see if you really were as special as you look on paper.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s lonely here. Because no one is interesting. Because I could use a friend, or something more, and there’s only so many people that I’m allowed to interact with. So, why not make the effort to meet someone who is actually worth speaking to?”

His closeness was unsettling, but at the same time a small twist of thrill was threading through her body. At being noticed. At having someone be interested in her. At catching someone’s attention through reputation alone.

She knocked his hands off her shoulders, wanting to gain just a bit more power back, and in a bold move put her arms around his neck. She hadn’t noticed before how much taller than her he was, until now, when he moved his hands to her hips and pulled her against him. She could feel the buttons of his fancy shirt against the centre of her stomach, the buckle of his belt against her navel, his forehead against hers.

“Dance with me,” she whispered, digging her fingers into his hair.

“Okay,” he whispered back, “Anything else you want?”

His attention was enough. But she wasn’t one to settle. “And tell me how much Uzuri annoys you. Tell me everything you hate about her.”

“Well, firstly,” he swayed her gently, “She’s not you.”

 

Temari couldn’t remember who started it. She didn’t really care – all she knew was that Laini was paying attention to her, and she loved the attention, and she wasn’t going to ruin it by running away, and kissing him felt really, really good.

And his hand on her thigh, gripping it hard through her dress, felt good. And her arms around his neck, probably holding too tightly but he hadn’t complained, felt good. Even the wall against her back was cool and welcoming, and she hooked her leg more firmly around his waist.

“Temari,” he pulled away enough to breathe, something flashing through his eyes when she closed her hand in his hair a bit tighter.

“What?”

“We shouldn’t . . . I mean, not too much . . .” He smiled apologetically. “You’re not . . . not something that should be rushed.”

“We can keep doing this, though,” she replied. “This is fine.”

It was more than fine; it was warm and inviting and she loved the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“How old are you, again?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“Thirteen.”

“You’re _thirteen_?” He snapped his head back.

“Yeah.” She pulled his lips back to hers. It was exciting the way his hand on her thigh tightened its grip, and she liked the idea of having power over him, of being to make him react to her in ways she hadn’t thought she could.

But Laini pulled back, albeit reluctantly, and released his hold on her leg. “We should go back to the party.”

_Should we?_ She was happy where she was. “Why?”

“Because I’m no saint, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep my hands off you if you keep looking at me like that. Don’t,” he interrupted before she could say anything, “Because it’s not okay. Not now, anyway. We should go back.”

He stepped away from her, and Temari finally settled her weight back on her own legs. One by one, she shifted the straps of her dress more firmly onto her shoulders, making sure they were comfortable and secured. “Okay. We’ll go back.”

He put one arm around her shoulders, holding her close as they walked.

When they returned inside, Laini excused himself to speak with his father, but before leaving raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles gently. Temari couldn’t help her soft smile at that action, and she sauntered back to Rasa, expression smug.

Rasa broke away from speaking to two people to acknowledge her.

“Nice to see you behaving for once,” Rasa said, and Temari decided to count that as praise.

She held her head a bit higher, pleased.

“Come with me,” Rasa added. “I want to introduce you to a few important people.”

She fell into step behind him, managing to smile politely and pretend to pay attention to the men her father had been speaking to. Laini caught her eye again later in the evening, and she snuck away from Rasa’s side to pull him onto the dancefloor again.

“We should try this again, in a few years,” Laini said, watching her softly as they danced.

She nudged his hand down lower on her hip.

“You know, when you’re not thirteen.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She knew it was growing late. People had been leaving, the party had been emptying.

“I should say good night,” Laini said, stopping his movements.

Temari stopped as well, reluctantly, both hands on his shoulders. She tipped her head to one side. “This was fun.”

“It really was.” He glanced around, seeing how many people were paying attention to them. Satisfied the number was low enough, he leaned down to brush his lips softly against hers. “Good night, Princess.”

She grinned at him. “Good night. Thanks for the dances.”

He let her go, stepping back and giving her a shallow bow.

“Temari,” Rasa called her gruffly, and she spun around, expression shutting down. Had he been watching them?

She slunk over to him, head down, expecting some sort of reprimand. But Rasa didn’t say anything. He waited until she was at his side before exiting the ball room, expecting her to follow. She trailed him back to where they were staying, stopping at her door while he continued to his.

She was halfway in when Rasa stopped.

“Good night,” he said, a bit dismissively, as though preoccupied with other things.

She paused, one hand on the door frame, and looked back over her shoulder. She couldn’t remember the last time he had said good night to her. She wasn’t sure if he ever had. She smiled at him, eyes brightening. “Good night.”

He nodded at her once, before turning away.

She closed the door to her room softly, leaning against it for a moment, before letting out a little squeak of delight.


	19. Making Choices

“This fan weighs a fucking ton,” Kankuro groaned, trudging through the sand with heavy steps.

He sent a scowl towards Temari, who was cradled in Baki’s arms, doubled over in pain, and who had spent the last two hours groaning in agony.

“Shut the fuck up,” Temari snarled, almost contorting out of Baki’s arms.

“Hey!” Baki said warningly. “If you’re feeling well enough to kill your brother, you can walk home.”

“Fuck, just kill me now,” she moaned, arms across her lower stomach and clutching hard. “Shitty ass mission taking three weeks longer than it should have.” She spent a few minutes spewing profanities under her breath, until Baki jostled her into silence.

“Next time,” he said in a low voice, “Pack extra pills.”

“I didn’t pack three weeks damn extra because the fucking mission wasn’t supposed to take so long,” Temari protested hotly. It felt like someone was continuously stabbing her through the abdomen. She couldn’t see straight through the pain sometimes.

“You’re such a girl,” Kankuro muttered. “It can’t be that bad. No one else complains as much as you do.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You can’t even stand up, Tem,” he retorted. “So come and get me!”

Baki resigned himself to their bickering, checking behind him to see what distance Gaara was following at. The youngest kept himself out of range of his siblings’ shouting, lagging behind with a sour scowl on his face. It was no secret that he made a point to avoid Temari at a certain time of the month, and Rasa tried where possible to time missions so they could be kept apart, but it wasn’t always feasible.

At least Gaara seemed well in control of the one-tailed beast inside him. The scent of blood could drive the demon insane, but so far there had not been any incidents involving Temari. Whether that was coincidence or some sort of sibling affection and protectiveness, Baki didn’t know, and no one would question Gaara. Baki assumed it was concern, as Gaara seemed perturbed if either sibling was injured, but unsure of how to display his concern, and so he retreated further into himself and removed himself from the situation.

Baki approved. Temari and Kankuro kept Gaara grounded in reality, kept his mind as sane as it could be. Without his older siblings around, Gaara might be even more unpredictable and volatile.

Suna’s wall was coming into view, and it sparked a fresh argument.

“Look, there’s home,” Kankuro grumbled. “Carry your own stupid fan.”

“I will beat your stupid, fat skull in with it!”

“I’m not fat!”

“But you are stupid!”

“You’re stupid! You’re too stupid to even walk!”

Baki didn’t try to stop her this time as she launched out of his arms onto Kankuro. With the weight of a puppet and an unfamiliar fan on his back, Kankuro toppled over far too easily, landing with a thud on his back, with Temari on his chest.

Baki sighed, waiting until Kankuro threw her off with an indignant yell and pinned her down, before intercepting, “Kankuro, get off her.”

“You didn’t tell her to get off me,” Kankuro snapped. “Why should I – ow, _fuck_ , did you just _bite_ me?”

“Kankuro,” Baki said sharply. “Get up. Temari, leave him alone.”

Kankuro got begrudgingly to his feet, kicking at the sand to shower it over his sister.

Temari growled at him, sitting up and brushing sand off her clothes. She stood up gingerly, biting her lip to force back a whimper of pain.

“Kankuro, keep the fan,” Baki ordered. “Temari, you can walk from here. And both of you can stop acting like children.” He continued walking. Gaara paused, looking at Temari with a blankly worried expression, then followed Baki.

Kankuro and Temari looked at each other, and made their way silently across the desert. Temari made it a few hundred metres before needing to stop to double over, lip clenched in her teeth. The urge to buckle to her knees was insanely strong. She squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself to stay upright.

Kankuro returned to her side with a heavy sigh. He said nothing, just scooped her up into his arms, and plodded silently after Baki and Gaara.

 

“I want to go see the healer again,” Temari stated firmly, planting herself in front of Rasa’s desk.

“Then go,” he said dismissively, not looking up from his paperwork.

She kept her chin tilted up, shoulders back defiantly, because she knew her next sentence would spark an argument. “I want a hysterectomy.”

Rasa’s head shot up, and he took a moment to process her statement.

“Absolutely not,” Rasa snapped.

“Why not?” Temari shouted, anger flaring. “It’s my body, I can do what I like.”

“You are Suna’s princess; you have an obligation to this country. You _will_ marry, and you _will_ produce an heir to the Kazekage position, and that’s not going to happen if you go through with this.”

“But I’m unhappy, and it bothers me,” Temari argued. “And who the fuck is going to ever marry me?”

“Watch your language.” Rasa’s frown deepened. “If you can’t find someone suitable to marry on your own, then I’ll do it for you.”

Temari froze in place. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“If that’s what it takes to ensure the future of this village, then I will,” Rasa said firmly.

Temari drew herself up. “I won’t do it.”

“You won’t have a choice, if you keep going on like this.”

“No,” she said irritably. “I won’t let you make that sort of decision for me. Fuck, I’ll leave the village before you tie me down like that.”

“You will not leave the village.”

“Maybe I will, if it means never getting married.”

“That is also a decision out of your hands,” Rasa roared. “You can’t give up your village on a whim. You are a princess, you are a candidate for Kazekage, and whether you like it or not you will live and die in this village and for this village.”

“What if I don’t want to! What if I want to go out and find some man somewhere far away who doesn’t give a shit where I come from! What if I don’t want to fit in with whatever the council wishes!”

“You are nothing but a bargaining chip!” Rasa shouted back, and Temari froze in place.

Rasa sighed, anger dissipating slightly. “Temari, this is the reality we live with right now. This is the world we have right now. Maybe it will change, but right now . . . Gaara is a weapon, you are a bargaining chip, and Kankuro is my best bet for Kazekage, even if you are my best prospect.”

She glared at him. “I am not an object.”

“No, you’re not. But you are a shinobi. And you’ll do whatever is best for the future of your village. Even if it means giving up your own life.” He sat back in his seat. “Whatever notions you have in your head of your future, get rid of them. You’re not going to get that. You don’t get to choose what you want in life.”

“Did you?” she asked quietly.

Rasa looked at her, expression confused.

“Did you get to choose?” she continued. “Did you choose to be Kazekage, did you choose to marry for love, did you choose Mom, did you get to _choose_?”

He held her gaze, saying stiffly, “Things were different for me.”

She knows why. Because he is a man, and she is a woman.

“But you chose,” she seethed. “You chose everything you wanted. You got everything you wanted. You got Mom.”

“This conversation is over.” Rasa turned his attention downwards.

Temari stayed where she was, glaring at him. When Rasa continued to ignore her, she spun around, slamming the door to his office closed. Not even a reprimand followed her, and she could feel her anger building.

She wanted someone to pay attention to her, and she wasn’t sure where to get that from. Slamming Rasa’s door only did so much, and he didn’t rise to her goading.

She stormed out the building, one hand already gripping her fan, ready to haul it off her back and destroy whatever she saw first. She leapt for the rooftops the moment she was outside, making swift leaps for the edge of the village. The wide, open expanses of the desert welcomed her, and she could scream and fling her fan as much as she wanted there.

It was as she slammed the edge of her fan into the village wall, producing a shudder and a crack and a thud loud enough to get the attention of the guard team that she noticed she wasn’t alone.

Ignoring the guards that milled around, she stared at Daimaru where he sat, halfway up the giant stone steps of the wall, polishing kunai. He watched her in return. One leg was heavily bandaged.

“Morning, Temari,” he said pleasantly. “Trying to destroy the entire village?”

“Maybe.” She waved the guards away. One lingered, looking despairingly at the crack in the wall, before flashing away to return to his post. She cocked her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Injured,” he replied shortly. “I’m off missions for a few days.” He looked her up and down. “You look like you want to kill somebody.”

One eyebrow raised. “Are you volunteering?”

He chuckled slightly, but shook his head, and continued polishing.

She wanted his eyes on her again. With one jump she was in front of him, glaring at him. “Pay attention to me.”

He kept looking at his weapons.

She growled, grabbing hold of his shirt with both hands and hauling him up to her eye level. Finally, he looked at her, gorgeous eyes on hers.

He sighed. “Anyone ever told you that you’re a lot of trouble?”

She stared into his eyes. “No.”

“Someone should. Because you are.” He squirmed a bit, uncomfortable with how close she held him. “What are you doing?”

“Did you mean it?” she asked, finally, and when he just blinked at her in confusion, she rolled her eyes. “You said I was pretty once. When we were kids. Did you mean that?”

He flushed, looking down. “Ah, that. Yeah, I meant it.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you say something like that?”

He shrugged helplessly. “Because I was young and impulsive, and thought maybe you’d like me back?”

She snorted, letting him go. “Like you back?”

He sighed. “Look, I like you, okay? I mean, who wouldn’t?”

She eyed him, “What?”

She wondered what he saw in her. What made him think she was interesting?

“You’re Suna’s princess; everyone’s interested in you.”

There is was, _damned men_ , only interested in prestige. Only interested in her as a bargaining chip – she had hoped Daimaru didn’t. That he meant what he said about her, that he saw her as more than everyone else did.

“That’s it?” she growled. “Just because of my heritage? Not because of me – _just me_ , not anything to do with Suna? If I was just some random person who lived here – just anyone – would you still think that? Would you choose me?”

“I don’t know.”

“ _Men_ ,” she snarled, turning away from him. She glared at the desert. Endless and harsh and beautiful, and she wondered what it was about this place that made people the way they were – reckless and confused and desperate.

“Would you choose me, if you could?” Daimaru asked, voice slightly hesitant. “I mean, if you were allowed to.”

“I can do what I want,” she said stiffly. But she wondered at his question. Maybe. Maybe she would choose him. Maybe they would be good for each other, and maybe she’d like to have someone who liked her for being her. Maybe she would want kisses and whispers and someone who would listen to her and pay attention to her. Maybe she would try that, just to see. “I might.”

“Might?” He sighed. “That’s specific.”

She traced the lines of the dunes with her eyes. “You weren’t specific either. So, what, you’d want me just because I’m Suna’s princess and you think I’m pretty?” She huffed. “Laini said I was powerful.”

“Who?”

“If it was just us,” Temari ignored him, “Just you and me, like it is right now, would you think about, I don’t know, dating me? Or being with me? Like . . . like people do?” _Would I be worth more to you than a bargain or a forced decision?_

“Honestly?” Daimaru’s voiced pitched upwards nervously. “Damn, I’d do whatever you wanted. I’d do anything to get a shot with you.” He almost added ‘anyone would’, before thinking better of it, and keeping his mouth shut.

Temari spun to grab him again, both hands on the front of his shirt and hauling him towards her, their faces far too close. She studied his eyes for a while. Behind his wide-eyed panic and utter confusion was that beautiful crystal-clear purple that she loved so much.

It would be worth a chance, for those eyes.

Without much thought, driven purely by the need to make her own choices and her own decisions, to just take control of something, she closed the last gap between them and kissed him firmly. Daimaru made a shocked, muffled squeak, whole body snapping tense.

Temari pulled back, watching him curiously. His jaw was slack in surprise, and when she loosened her grip on him, he sat down with a sudden _thump_ , blinking dazedly.

“Temari,” he started slowly, brain working overtime to catch up to the situation.

“Shut up,” she mumbled. “I don’t want to talk.”

In a bold moment, she dropped right down onto his lap, lacing her arms around his neck. He was still rigidly frozen, and she liked that. She had absolute control over him, she had him stunned in place.

“The border team can see us,” he tried, voice a mere whisper.

“The border team can go fuck themselves,” she growled. How far could she push him? How much could she do before he fought back – and when he did, how much further could she go? She kissed him again, wondering what was ‘too much’. Not that she cared. Maybe the news would get back to Rasa – that would surely get his attention. That would get him to look at her and notice her.

She bit his lip and rolled her hips experimentally, and Daimaru almost leapt out from under her.

“Temari,” he tried again, nervously. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this at all,” she shrugged. She glanced to the side, calculating how many of the border team were watching them.

“I agree,” he said firmly. “So get off me.”

When Temari sent him a scathing look, he added, “People are watching, and if this gets back to the village, your father will probably kill me. Honestly, you’re not worth dying for.”

She didn’t disagree. “Fine. Whatever.”

She stood up, pushing her bangs back nonchalantly. “Carry on with your far more important task of polishing weapons.”

“It’s not that you’re not . . .” He hesitated. “I mean, you’re . . . Ah, fuck it, I don’t know how to say this.”

“That I’m not worth it?”

“You are infuriating,” Daimaru said, voice flat. “Is it just a game to you – messing with me, and everyone else? Do you even like me like that or am I just convenient target for your daddy issues?”

“Hey,” she snapped. “I do not have daddy issues!”

“They are right _there_ , behind all that denial!”

She clenched one hand, trying to push down the urge to slap him across the face. “How dare you?”

“Oh, come on, Temari, anyone can see it. _Everyone_ can see it. You-“

“Get away from me,” she snarled.

“ _You_ came to _me_!” He ducked her swinging fist, scrambling backwards.

She growled. “Fine. Fuck off, leave me alone. Never speak to me again.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Leave then. I don’t care.”

Somehow, she repressed the instinct to rip his head off. She kicked him once, right into his injured leg, and left him screaming in agony on the border wall.


	20. Brother And Sister

Temari was lying on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, and wondering what the future would hold. Was it too much to ask for a shred of happiness, for something to go right for her, for someone who wanted to be with her?

She heard the soft knock on her door, and didn’t bother to reply.

Baki appeared in her line of vision. “Temari. You didn’t come to training today.”

“I had cramps.” She didn’t look at him. If he caught her lie, he didn’t call her out on it.

Baki studied her for a moment. “What’s going on with you and that boy?”

“Nothing,” she replied dully. “Nothing’s going on, because no one cares about me. ‘Cept Kankuro.”

“I’ve spoken to you before about fighting boys just to make yourself feel better.”

“Wasn’t fighting him.”

“Then how did he end up with a second fracture in his leg?”

Temari shrugged.

Baki sighed. “Temari. I know you’re growing up and your views on the world are changing. But you need to learn to keep yourself under control.”

“It felt nice,” she murmured absently. “When I was kissing him. And when Laini was kissing me. Felt a bit like they liked me.”

She couldn’t mistake the grimace that crossed Baki’s face. “Temari, do we need to have a talk?”

She snorted. “No. Save it for Kankuro.” She stayed grumpily silent after that, and Baki stayed where he was, watching her. Eventually, she added, “Dad found someone. He found someone who loved him. Why can’t I have that, too?”

“Because you’re fourteen and all you want out of a man right now is for him to submit to you because you have control issues.”

Temari blinked at him. “Huh . . . that’s . . . a fair assessment, I guess.”

“So,” Baki said. “For the good of Suna, for the good of missions, and for my sanity, please put boys at the back of your mind for a while. There will be time for all that later. You’ve hit every other milestone at breakneck speed, so back off from this one and wait. All I need from you now is your attention on missions, and your dedication to being a Suna shinobi. Everything else can wait.”

Temari flicked her eyes away, then back to Baki.

“You’re young. There’ll be time for all that nonsense later. There’ll be time for you to figure out who you belong with later. And you know as well as I do that you don’t need a man in your life at all.”

“I know,” she murmured. “But it’s a nice idea. You know, having someone around who just likes you because.”

Baki didn’t really know what to add to that. He just nodded shortly. “Focus on yourself, Princess. You’re what really matters.”

She stayed quiet as he left, letting out a loud sigh and continuing to stare blankly upwards. She only moved when Kankuro walked in and draped himself across her.

“Ew, you’re all sweaty and gross, get off!” She shoved at his side, hard, and Kankuro just laughed.

“Aw, but I’ve missed you,” he grinned, breaking into more laughter as she punched his shoulder.

“You’re disgusting,” she finally shoved him off her, sitting up and scooting back on the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Bothering you. It’s my brotherly duty.” He sat up as well, face grimy with sweat and sand. “We should do something fun, since you’ve been in a such a bad mood lately.”

“Way to butter me up,” she smiled. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you shower.”

“While I do that,” Kankuro said, wiping the back of his hand against his cheek, “Put on that stupid purple dress you like, and be ready to go out.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, curious.

“If,” Kankuro said, “You behave yourself and aren’t mean to me, I’ll take you dancing. Jade knows a nice place.”

“It’s not a nice place. It’s in a terrible part of town, and every time I go there people stare at me funny, and I had to breaks someone’s wrist once when he grabbed my ass.”

“And that’s why I’m with you,” Kankuro grinned triumphantly. “I will be your knight in shining armour and protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

“Do you want to go dancing or not?” Kankuro raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m only offering once.”

“Two underaged kids in a seedy bar in a terrible part of town? Of course I want to go. Dad’ll have a fit.”

“Oh, but that’s the best part,” Kankuro added. “We’re not telling him we’re going out. We’re sneaking out like rebellious teenagers off to have a good time.” He got off her bed. “Think of it as a stealth mission.”

“Done, but if anyone touches me without my permission, I’m going to make a scene,” Temari warned.

Kankuro backed out of her room with a flourish. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

 

She didn’t make a point to avoid Daimaru after that, but she wasn’t seeking him out either.

He kept a wary distance, looking away from her when his friends called out if Temari was near. He was quick to shut down conversation between them, and even quicker to keep a decent personal space around her.

Temari wasn’t sure if she missed him. It’s not like they were friends – but having someone to talk to other than Kankuro had been nice.

She put it out of her mind, though, and continued on with her life. But she still made sure to send him razor-sharp smiles and burning looks, which he blushed at and looked away, and it sent a bit of a thrill through her when he stumbled over his words. It was fun, even if Kankuro hooted with laughter and teased her constantly about having a boyfriend.

Gaara kept wisely silent on the matter, but once or twice Temari caught him hiding a small smile when Daimaru bolted away at the sight of her.

The months that followed were steeped in routine – learning about being Kazekage with Kankuro, working hard in training and harder in missions with Baki. Keeping an eye on Gaara and wishing he would answer her when she talked to him. He was shrouded in silence, making everything around him tense.

But even that was starting to feel normal. It was normal for Temari to be tense and on edge around her father and her baby brother. It was normal for the village to feel uncertain and unsafe, it was normal for her to hold her head high and ignore people as she walked through the streets.

It was normal for the only bright spot in her life to be Kankuro.

It was normal for missions to be brutal and bloody, and she fought without compassion.

It was normal to be alone if she wasn’t with her brothers.

It was normal to be lonely.

She kept her chin up, her body out the shadows, and, like the hurricane she was, forged on with life.

 

Temari had spent the week storing up water so she could finally have a leisurely bath. Her only disadvantage was that she couldn’t heat it, but that didn’t really matter because the desert was still blazing hot, and she was perfectly happy with cold water.

She took her time, washing her hair thoroughly, wriggling her toes in the water and watching them, and just taking the time unwind and do nothing. Life had been stressful, and draining, and she was relieved to have some time to herself.

When she finally finished, she dried her hair, and put on a nice light-coloured dress that she never got to wear since she always out in the sun fighting something, and wandered to her room.

Kankuro was there already, lying on her bed, absently spinning a kunai on his finger. “What were you doing in there?”

“Bathing.”

“Thought you’d drowned you took so long.”

Temari rolled her eyes and threw her towel at him. “I didn’t drown.”

She sat in front her mirror, frowning at her reflection. Her hair hung around her face, still damp and for once not windswept wild around her face. She turned away from the mirror, grabbing her brush and turning to face Kankuro as she began methodically trying to detangle it.

Kankuro watched her shrewdly. “Still hung up on that, huh?”

“On what?”

“Your hair.”

She bristled slightly. “I am not.”

“Right,” Kankuro muttered, looking away.

“Why are you such a dick today?”

“I’m not,” Kankuro answered sharply, sitting up. He huffed, expression shutting down. “I just wanna talk, and you always have to be a bitch about it.”

“Because you’re always a dick,” Temari snapped. Part of her wondered if he was okay, but a much larger part flared up in protest at his anger. She wasn’t one to back down and be sympathetic. If there was a fight to be had, she was going to have it.

“Am not!” Kankuro growled, standing up. “You’re acting like such a bitch, with your attitude and your . . . and your . . .”

“And my what?” she asked boldly. “Just say it!”

“With all your mommy issues!” Kankuro shouted.

“What damn mommy issues?” she snapped back, her voice a challenging snarl.

“Look at you! You won’t even wear your hair down because you look like her and you hate that!” Kankuro screamed. “Do you think no one’s noticed? You hate how you look, you do everything you can to avoid photos of her, because _you_. _Have_. _Mommy issues!”_

“Oh, fuck off,” Temari snarled. “Like you’re any better. You won’t even let anyone _see_ your hair or your face because you look like Dad and you hate that even more! You hide behind your stupid make up and your stupid hat because you don’t want anyone to know that you’re just like him! You have daddy issues!”

“I’m not just like him! I’m gonna be better, and I’m not gonna fuck up everything like he does. Don’t compare me to him!”

“Don’t compare me to Mom!” Temari screeched back. The fact that half of Suna could probably hear them was not a factor, they were too busy hitting where it hurt.

“You’re just like her, so _deal with it_ , and everyone can see it!”

“I am not!” In a fit of fury, she hurled her hairbrush at him.

Shinobi instincts kicked in, and he flung the kunai he was holding at her. It flew at the centre of her face, and she jerked her head to the side, not quite avoiding it. A thin red line sprang up on her cheek, and the kunai hit the wall behind her.

Kankuro’s face drained off all colour. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it . . .” He came hesitantly closer, all his bravado gone in a moment.

“Don’t touch me,” Temari snapped, rubbing gingerly at her cheek. “Just get lost.”

“Tem. I’m sorry. I didn’t . . . I’m not like him, I’m not. I’m just . . .” He looked defeated. “We’ll do better. We both will. Please . . . please don’t hate me . . .”

She glanced behind her, avoiding the mirror, and looking at the kunai in the wall. She stayed still as he edged closer, holding his arms out carefully.

“Tem. Please don’t turn away from me. You’re all I have in this shitty old place. I can’t manage without you.” When Temari said nothing, Kankuro pulled her gently against his chest, holding her tight. They both tried to ignore that he was shaking.

“Sometimes I want to run away,” she admitted softly, burying her face in his chest. “Sometimes I want to live somewhere else. Maybe one day I will.”

“But not without me?” Kankuro asked hesitantly. “If we run away, it’ll be together?”

“Yeah. Yeah, nothing will get between us, I promise. Wherever I go, you’ll be there.” She sighed. “No one on earth could take me away from you.”

After holding each other for a few minutes, Temari felt calmer.

“What upset you?” she finally asked, rubbing a line of blood onto Kankuro’s shoulder.

“Dad. Just . . . Don’t like my new mission.” He sighed, his breath warm on her neck. “Why do we fight all the time?”

“That’s what we do.”

“I know but . . . wouldn’t it be nice to have a conversation that didn’t involve screaming at each other?”

“One day, maybe.” Temari pulled out of his embrace. “Things will be different, eventually. You’ll learn to communicate better-“

“You can go to anger management classes.”

“- Oh, shut up. I’m fine.” She jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “I don’t have an anger problem.”

“You do, but we’ll let it go for now because I want something from you.”

“What?”

Kankuro stared at the floor. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet, and if that didn’t let Temari know how awful he was feeling, his words would have, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Yeah. Of course.” She wondered what was bothering him. “What . . . did Dad ask you to do?”

Kankuro let out a loud breath. “Assassination. A kid.”

He hated those. They both did. Murderers and traitors were one thing, but kids were a whole different game.

Temari nodded her understanding, pulling him close again for another hug. She breathed in deeply, hoping to calm him as well as herself. He smelled oddly familiar. “. . . Do you use my shampoo?”

“Yes.” Kankuro chuckled. “Took you this long to notice?”

“You’re getting weirder as you get older.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She smiled, hiding it against his shirt. “Ass.”

“Bitch.”

She laughed softly. “That’s better. Sounds more like you.”

She felt him chuckle as well, and it relaxed her. He still had an awful mission to carry out, but at least she had managed to make him feel a little bit better about himself. She was glad they could still be close like this.


	21. Questioning The World

Temari strode purposefully towards Rasa’s office. She did not bother to acknowledge the two guards at the end of the passageway, but she did take note that Daimaru was one of them. She liked ignoring him, though, because he often made a point to seek her out afterwards, even if it was just to watch her from a distance and baulk at conversations, and she liked controlling him and having power over his decisions.

They had been playing this game for months – avoiding and approaching the other, although Temari did most of the approaching, and Daimaru most of the avoiding. Still, she enjoyed it.

He was the closest thing she had to a friend.

Right now, she was hyped up and full of too much energy, over eager to do something after her last mission, blood still pumping wildly at what she had done.

She rapped lightly on the door, and waited. There was no immediate answer, which meant Rasa probably had someone else in there with him already. She stayed facing the door, but she could feel Daimaru’s eyes on her back, and she smirked to herself, confidence riding high.

 _Yeah, you wish I paid attention to you, don’t you?_ She kept her head high, fighting the urge to turn her vicious smirk towards him. Let him wait.

The door opened abruptly, and she stepped to the side as another kunoichi left the Kazekage office, eyes brimming with tears and jaw clenched tightly. Temari watched her curiously, as she walked quickly, head down, not looking at the two shinobi guarding the end of the passage.

“Come in, Temari,” Rasa’s voice called.

She entered, closing the door behind her. “What just happened?”

“I fail to see how it’s any of your business.” Rasa scowled at her. “Did you finish your mission?”

“Would I be here if I hadn’t?” she enquired. When Rasa’s expression darkened, she shrugged. “Of course I did it.”

“No report?”

“You said it was off the record, so I assumed that meant no report.”

“Good. That’s exactly what it means.”

Hunting missing shinobi tended to be kept discreet, and Temari was getting used it. Kankuro usually did those missions; he was better at stealth attacks than she was, but Temari was faster. Hunting was thrilling. The ‘no rules’ was appealing, which was why she was still thrumming with excitement, because these were the missions that allowed her to whatever she wanted, to take control over everything, to learn new skills – to be as violent as she pleased. “Target was dispatched.”

“Where’s the body?”

“North desert.”

“You’re back on duty with Baki and your brothers, then. Good job.”

She smiled slightly, pleased at the acknowledgement. Rasa’s face had softened, so she asked again, “What upset the girl earlier?”

Rasa sighed. “You need to learn to let things go.”

“Too stubborn.”

“I’m well aware.” He ran a hand through his hair, and it stuck up exactly like Gaara’s, which coaxed a smile to Temari’s lips. “I need her for another seduction mission. She’s done a few for me; she’s very good. Understandably reluctant, though.”

Temari’s smile faded.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s necessary. I do what I can to keep you away from these sorts of missions, but they are necessary.”

“The fatality rate is too high.”

“Also understandable. They have no weapons for missions like these. It’s a fairly specialized field.”

“How old is she?” Temari asked quietly.

“That’s enough questions,” Rasa turned his attention to other things. “You can leave.”

“How old is she?” Temari repeated, approaching the desk. She laid her palms on the dark wood, glaring fearlessly into her father’s eyes. “What age are you sending children out to do these terrible things?”

“I need you to stop fighting me on everything.”

“Is she younger than me?” Temari demanded, leaning forward even further.

Rasa met her eyes fearlessly. “They all are. Thirteen, fourteen, it’s the best age. And I’d rather it was them than you. The council would have you gone on dozens of these missions if they had their way. If possible, I don’t want you on them.”

“You sent me on one before.”

“Because I had no other choice. You were the only one capable.” Rasa let out a breath, not quite a sigh. “Better that it’s some nameless, faceless kunoichi than you.”

Temari’s jaw tightened. “That’s all they are to you? Just expendable tools? For you to use?”

“That’s what shinobi are.”

“We have a shortage as it is, and it’s because you treat them like they don’t matter.” Temari shook her head. “They are not nameless, and they are not expendable.”

“That’s what shinobi are,” Rasa repeated stubbornly.

“If they are, then I am too.”

“You’re not, because you’re different,” Rasa insisted. “Temari, I’m trying to protect you. I’m trying to keep you safe. I’m trying to keep you from being thrown into the lion’s den – I’m trying to keep you away from men!”

She straightened up. “I don’t need protecting, and I’m not afraid of men.”

“You’re my princess, so I’m going to protect you. You can take on any mission, but not these. Not unless it’s a last resort. You are not ready for these.”

“But thirteen-year-old girls are?” Temari challenged.

“Stop fighting me on this. You’ve done your mission, now get out.” Rasa sounded weary. “I’m not arguing this anymore.”

Temari was ready to argue. She was ready to fight, about anything, with anyone. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’m going.”

She spun around, storming out his office and slamming the door as hard as she could. She stalked down the hall to the guards.

Temari grabbed the front of Daimaru’s shirt. “What time do you finish?”

“Uh, six, why?” he stammered.

“Come with me, now.” She dragged him forward.

“I still have to-“

“I’m not waiting that long.” She sent a glare at the opposite guard, daring him to speak up.

He stayed tight lipped, looking slightly nervous.

Temari hauled Daimaru with her. “Where’s your house?”

“Uh, l-left,” Daimaru stuttered, resigning himself to being dragged from the building. He didn’t speak beyond the occasional direction, until finally Temari stopped dragging him outside a small little apartment wedged between two other, taller buildings.

“It’s not much, but-“ Daimaru began.

“I don’t care.” She kicked the door open the moment he reached for it.

It was a small place, just a single room. There was a fine layer of dust over everything, and the room was dark, sunlight blocked out by one faded muslin curtain over a small, dingy window. The air smelt musty and stale, but it was cool.

Temari slammed the door closed again with one hand, never once letting go of Daimaru. “Your home looks like shit.”

“We’re not all royalty, like you,” Daimaru didn’t sound in the least offended, too preoccupied with the way Temari was gripping him, guiding him. She practically threw him onto the bed, and he landed on his back with a soft grunt. “Temari-“

“Shut up.” She didn’t want him to talk, she just wanted him to submit and do nothing. She pushed him down by the shoulders when he attempted to sit up, throwing a leg over him and settling her weight on his stomach.

“T-temari,” he stuttered nervously. “What are you doing?”

“What the fuck does it look like?” she snarled, yanking her shirt over her head. Daimaru’s eyes dropped down, staring at the mesh shirt she had underneath, that revealed her bra, and she almost snorted because _men_. So predictable.

He was jolted out of his daze by Temari leaning down to tug at his shirt, and by then his brain had caught up with the situation.

“Temari, wait,” Daimaru’s words stuttered a bit.

“What now?” she asked irritably, rocking back on her heels.

“I’m not . . .” He sat up a bit, edging out from under her. “I don’t think we’re ready for this. I’m not ready for this.”

“The girl that passed you earlier – the crying one,” Temari said, “Has been on four seduction missions. She’s slept with four different people, all for this ass-backwards village, and not a single one of them meant anything to her. I have a choice,” she snarled. “I can _choose_. I can control what happens now, and I’m not having my first time be with someone I don’t even know who doesn’t give a shit if I live or die the next day.”

Daimaru’s eyes were growing progressively wider, and Temari was struck once again by their colour. Such a gorgeous shade of purple. “But why me?”

“Who the fuck else?” she asked sharply. “You think anyone else is going to let me do this? You know people here either stay away from me, because I’m the Kazekage’s daughter, or try to force themselves on me because I’m a woman and apparently that’s all the excuse men need.”

Daimaru sat up a bit straighter.

“Lie down,” she snapped.

“No. You’re not . . . we’re not doing this.” He created a small space between them, speaking almost reluctantly, a bit nervous of her reaction. “You’re angry. And, I’m no expert, but I don’t think angry is the right reason for sleeping with someone. Also, you’re scaring me. You’re scary when you’re angry.”

“You’re saying no?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m saying no. You don’t actually want this you just . . .” He fumbled for words. “You just wanna control something.”

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked sharply.

“I . . .” He sighed. “Temari, this is not the time or the place.”

She folded her legs, sitting a bit more comfortably, watching him curiously, anger suitably under control.

“We’re not doing this now.” He took in a deep breath, and let it out again in one big whoosh. “Pretty sure I’m going to regret saying this for the rest of my life but . . . no, we’re not having sex.”

Temari’s eyes dropped to the floor. “That’s it, huh? You don’t . . . want to?”

“It’s not I don’t want to,” Daimaru tried to explain. “It’s . . . it’s everything. You can’t just throw things like this at me.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought of fucking me before.”

He flushed, turning his head away.

Temari barked out a laugh. “Thought so.”

“I’ve got a mission tomorrow,” he murmured. “Nothing hectic, just a C-rank. And well . . . When I’m back,” he said softly. “Maybe we can talk about this again. But don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“No one else to do stupid things with,” Temari shrugged. “Whatever. Go do your mission.” She reached for her shirt, pulling it back on. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” She stood up, not even looking at him.

“You are.”

“And according to you, that’s the ‘wrong emotion’ for this.” She crossed the room in two strides. Hand on the front door, she glanced back at him. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“Why?”

“Who the fuck would turn me down?” She yanked the door open. Being rejected wasn’t sitting well with her; it interfered with her perceptions of power and control. She didn’t like the feeling. She wanted to control something, she wanted something to go her way.

She didn’t wait for his answer. Daimaru didn’t have one to give. He sat quietly on the bed, wincing as she slammed the door on her way out, and shook a long line of dust from the ceiling.

 

She slammed the door when she got home, stomping irritably through the house. It was late at night, and she should have been home hours ago, but she’d gone to the training grounds in a fit of frustration and decimated everything around her.

“Where have you been?” Rasa asked, looking up sharply from the coffee table. There were papers all around him. “Baki couldn’t find you.”

“I was busy,” she replied with a shrug.

“Busy doing what?”

“Nothing.” It was entirely true. She had been intending to be busy doing something, but something had turned into nothing.

She went past him, disinterested in talking or interacting in any way. She went into the kitchen, hoping there was something nice to eat. Something sweet, maybe. There was nothing. She slammed every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen until Rasa screamed at her to stop.

She tried Kankuro, kicking his bedroom door open. “Do you have chocolate?”

“One of those days, is it?” Kankuro grunted from his position sitting on the floor. “Yeah, next to my bed.”

Temari navigated her way through weapons and broken puppets, hopping onto his bed and leaning over to the drawer next to it.

“What’s up?” Kankuro asked, threading senbon into secret holes in the puppet’s legs.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing’s a good reason to steal chocolate.”

“It’s just everything, okay?” She threw a piece of chocolate at him, and flopped onto her back. “This village is so fucked. We are sending kids on seduction missions, we are letting children murder people three times their age. We have people starving in the streets. It needs to change.”

“Take it up with Dad, he’s the Kazekage.” Kankuro shrugged.

“That needs to change too,” Temari murmured, studying the cracks in the ceiling. There was a shuriken stuck in it, too. She wondered how it got there.

“It’s gonna be you or me next,” Kankuro looked up from his puppets. “You’d do better at it.”

“And we can change the village together,” Temari rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in one hand. “We’re a good team.”

“Yeah, we’ll fix it up,” Kankuro stated confidently. He eyed her from under messy brown hair. “You look like you’re in a mood.”

“Daimaru just rejected me.”

“That boy you beat up occasionally?” Kankuro squinted a bit. “What, he said no to . . .?”

“He said no,” Temari snapped. “That’s all. Just no.”

Kankuro shifted uncomfortably. “Um, were you going to . . .? Um . . .?”

She sent him a withering look. “Just stop talking.”

“Didn’t realize you were . . . doing that . . .”

“I’m clearly _not_ ,” she retorted, rolling onto her back again.

Kankuro tinkered away at his puppets for a bit, before clearing his throat. “You know you’re just doing it because Dad doesn’t pay enough attention to you, right?”

“I’m sorry, when did you get your degree in psychology?”

“Right about the time you got yours in diplomacy.” He chanced looking at her, raising an eyebrow at her scowl. He was used to seeing it. “You want him to notice you, and he doesn’t, so you go after other people who will, or do things you know he likes.” He added softly, “Like being cruel on missions.”

“That’s different. That’s my job. That’s not . . . that’s not because of Dad . . .” She trailed off, struggling to find conviction. “Okay, fine, I like when he praises me, and he always does it when I’ve done well on a mission. Sue me. You’re not any better, with your puppet make up and ridiculous clothes. Don’t you do all that so Dad looks at you?”

“Nope,” Kankuro said. “I do it because I like it.”

“And because it pisses Dad off.”

“Also that, yes. But mostly for me.” Kankuro grinned at her. “You’re gonna have to find a guy with mommy issues. He’ll be your perfect match.”

“Ugh,” Temari rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should try get a girlfriend. Might have more luck with that.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Kankuro snickered. “You’re off-putting to both genders.”

“You’re worse.” She grinned at him, swiping his pillow and flinging it at his head. “You’re such an ass.”

“It’s all part of my charm,” Kankuro deflected the pillow. He tinkered with his puppets some more. “Wanna sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah.” She needed the company. She watched him work for a few minutes, before asking softly, “Think I’ll ever make Dad happy?”

Kankuro paused. There was a long silence. He glanced towards her, then flicked his eyes away. His voice was soft, “Honestly . . . I think you’re the only one who does . . .”


	22. The Unexpected

There was a soft breeze for once, instead of the usual howling gales that swept the desert. Temari stood on the roof, face to the sun, eyes closed. It was warm and pleasant, the air just lifting her bangs from her face.

The sky was an endless, cloudless blue, meeting the uneven, golden horizon of the dunes. It was a beautiful sight, one that made Temari just want to stay in place for a while, just drinking in the beauty of where she was. In a moment of frivolity, she pulled the bands from her hair, sliding all four onto one wrist, and ran her fingers through her hair.

She could feel the cool wind brush against her scalp. It lifted her hair away from the back of her neck, letting it fan out gently. She let her arms drop to her sides, enjoying the nothingness.

She felt someone join her on the roof, and looked over her shoulder with a warm smile, expecting Kankuro.

Her expression faltered when Rasa stared back at her. She dropped her gaze down, raising a hand to push her hair back, as though that could hide it.

Rasa stared at her, expression tight and grim.

Temari shifted in place, wishing he would stop staring at her. She turned away again, looking at the desert. It seemed duller than it had been moments ago. Not as magical, not as welcoming. She shook her head briefly, trying to throw her thoughts away, and reached both hands up to begin retying her hair.

Rasa stopped her, stepping up to her side. His eyes roamed the desert, keeping skilfully away from her.

She lowered her hands again. The lines the dunes cut through the skyline were familiar, despite the desert being ever changing. She could feel Rasa’s closeness, unsettlingly near to her. Carefully, she slid her eyes sideways, trying to gauge his mood. When the silence stretched onwards, she resumed gathering her hair and tying it back again.

“I want it to be your village.” Rasa spoke out of nowhere, and Temari startled slightly. He didn’t look away from the waves of sand. “You’d be the best at it. Better than Kankuro. Your mother wanted that, too.”

She couldn’t remember the last time he had mentioned her mother without someone prompting it. Had he ever? He always avoided the topic.

“This village is struggling,” Rasa continued. “And I’m trying my best to raise it up again, but even if I do, it still needs someone to take it after me. Someone who won’t be afraid to lead it well.”

She stayed silent, unsure if she was meant to speak or not.

“It comes with sacrifices,” Rasa added, finally looking at her.

She shrank slightly under his gaze.

“You give up more than you gain.” Rasa stared out at the desert, expression faraway. He tracked the lines the dunes cut through the blue sky. Temari watched him, fascinated. Kankuro’s eyes tracked the horizon line the exact same way. Even their expressions were the same – dark and analytical. It was oddly comforting.

“I need you to raise Suna up higher,” he spoke suddenly. “To do everything I couldn’t.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” she asked, curious. The wind slid through her loose hair again, and she was painfully aware of it.

“You’re old enough to hear it now. You’re good enough to hear it now. And I know, having watched you, that you’re strong enough to do it.”

_What if I don’t want to be Kazekage?_ There was a whole world spread out before her, one waiting to be discovered and explored. Being Kazekage meant staying in the village all the time. It meant limits on freedom. It meant no more wind in her hair. “Dad . . .?”

He looked at her sharply, and she flinched slightly.

“Did you . . . want to be Kazekage?”

His gaze returned to the dunes, and she relaxed. “I did. It was a great honour. It was something I had always dreamed of. I had all the power I needed. I had an entire village. I had Karura. Everything was perfect.” His expression shut down, into a deep frown. “But life isn’t perfect. And perfect doesn’t last. People come and go.”

He turned away. “Like the desert around us and the wild winds that move it, things change. People change. Ideals and hopes and dreams . . . They don’t last.”

She half turned to watch him. “. . . Do you wish things were different?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. Temari thought maybe he wouldn’t. But, eventually, his shoulders sagged slightly, as though struggling under the weight of his thoughts, and he spoke softly. “Yes. When I look at you, I wish Karura was still here.”

He went back inside, and Temari lowered her gaze to the ground.

She reached up, and retied her hair.

 

“I bet I can hit that dog with this stone.” Kankuro tossed a small stone carelessly from hand to hand, sitting on the edge of the Kazekage building’s roof.

Temari sat with her back against his, dozing in the late evening sunshine. She was tired from their latest mission, and enjoying Kankuro’s familiar warmth and bulk. Neither of them wanted to go home. Gaara had been more unpredictable than usual, and they didn’t want to spend any more time near him than necessary.

“Tem? Wanna see?”

“Leave it alone,” she murmured drowsily.

“What else am I supposed to do?” he grumbled. “I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Then go home.”

“I’m not going home first. You can.”

“I don’t want to be near Gaara right now. I’m staying here.”

“Hey,” Kankuro shrugged one shoulder to get her attention. “When Dad’s done with his meeting, we can always go and bother him.”

“Baki said to leave him alone.” Temari was ready to fall asleep. All her muscles ached, and she welcomed rest.

“He’s just meeting with the daimyo and the council,” Kankuro rolled his eyes. “Sure, it sounds important, but that doesn’t mean it is.”

He fell silent after that. With all conversation ceased, the quiet of the desert was more noticeable. There was no noise around them. From the window below, Temari could vaguely hear her father’s voice as he talked. It was an almost comforting murmur, and she was slipping further into sleep, when Rasa’s angry snarl suddenly cut through the silence.

“Absolutely not!”

Temari jerked upright, and even Kankuro startled. They froze in place, interested now in the conversation.

The reply from one of the elders wasn’t audible, but Rasa was.

“No way in hell, how dare you even suggest it?”

Kankuro leaned over the edge, trying to hear more. Temari crouched next to him.

“It’s a good idea,” the elder said, slightly muffled, but his words were discernible enough. “We have been warring with Iwa for generations. A peace offering would be sensible. It would allow for more trade into the village. It would help ease the senseless slaughter of our shinobi when we get near the border.”

“A peace offering,” Rasa snarled. “My daughter is not a ‘peace offering’.”

Temari and Kankuro exchanged glances.

“Temari is not to be used like that, not unless Suna is on its knees and out of options. Until such time, she is _not_ a political bargaining chip. You will not dare to suggest again that my daughter be sent to marry in Iwa as a _peace offering_.”

“Whoa,” Kankuro whispered.

“Shh,” Temari hissed, nudging him hard with one shoulder.

“You have referred to her as such in the past.” A different voice was pointing this out. “That is what she is here for, if needed.”

“She is not,” Rasa growled. “She is prepared, in case that is a reality we have to face, but unless it’s the absolute last resort, no one is to even think of using her as anything but one of Suna’s finest shinobi.”

Her heart fluttered slightly, eyes widening.

“I will not throw away her future and free will unless no other choice exists. When there are no other options. When the very life of this village depends on it. But until such a time, she will stay here, she will fight for this village, and she will not be disrespected by any of you. Do I make myself clear?”

Whatever the council member mumbled back was inaudible, but it didn’t matter. Temari had heard everything she needed to. She pressed one palm against her mouth to stop herself from squealing, since that would surely give away that she was listening. A tense, sideways glance at Kankuro showed that he was just as stunned as her, slack jawed and staring blankly at nothing.

“Wow,” he mouthed, eventually.

She wasn’t going to be able to keep quiet for much longer. Temari grabbed Kankuro by the wrist and dragged him off the roof, pulling him away and bounding over roof tops until they were far enough for her to turn to him with a delighted shriek.

He grinned at her, bouncing slightly on his toes. “So, apparently, Dad doesn’t think you’re as worthless as you thought.”

“Can you believe it?” She couldn’t stop smiling. “He wants me to stay here. He wants me to keep fighting for Suna.” _He wants me to be better and better . . ._

“Told you we’d never be split apart,” Kankuro boasted. “Told you we’d be a team forever.”

They grinned at each other, feeling relieved. Temari let out a contented sigh. “That’s one less thing to worry about.”

They wandered Suna for a few hours, side by side. It was always easier with Kankuro. The people who stared didn’t dare venture close. They didn’t call out and fling insults.

It was only once the sun had long set and the stars were bright in the sky that they meandered home. Gaara watched them from the roof, but when he didn’t approach, Kankuro and Temari weren’t worried about him.

After Temari changed for bed, and brushed her hair loose, she went to the kitchen to try to find something nice for a snack. To her surprise, Rasa was there, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hands.

Temari froze in place in the doorway, hand flying automatically to her hair, even though she knew she couldn’t hide it.

Rasa glanced up at her briefly, then looked back down into his mug.

Silently, Temari padded into the kitchen, lips pressed together, wishing she’d kept a hair band or two around her wrist so she could pull her hair up, since she always hated how Rasa looked at her when it was loose. She checked the fridge, mostly for something to do, to make it look like she wasn’t going to turn and flee just because Rasa was in the room with her.

“How was Gaara on his mission?”

“He was fine,” Temari replied softly, not daring to look at him. “Didn’t cause trouble.”

Would it look odd to leave empty handed? She closed the fridge, turning to face Rasa.

His eyes flicked up again, and she tried not to squirm.

“I heard you,” she blurted out. “Today.”

Her heart sped up at the declaration, terrified that he would be angry at her eavesdropping.

Rasa stayed perfectly still. After an agonizing silence, he said, tonelessly, “I’m not losing you, too.”

_Too?_ Temari wondered if he meant Karura. She wasn’t brave enough to ask.

“This is your home. Nothing will ever change that.” Rasa stared into his coffee for a moment. “Next week, you’re doing the caravan escort mission. Don’t mess it up.”

Temari swallowed hard, almost flinching when he looked right at her.

“Make me proud,” he muttered, leaving the room.

“I will,” she replied softly, in a wonderous breath.

It didn’t seem like such an insurmountable task anymore.

 

It was a few days later, when she was on her way back from training, that she spotted Daimaru’s gaggle of friends. She perked up, keen for company.

The group of boys looked unusually subdued, and Temari squinted through the sun to try to spot Daimaru.

“Hey,” she called out, causing the entire group to freeze in place. She recognised one of them, a broad-shouldered boy who was always with Daimaru. And Jade, who hung near the back of the group and flushed pink when she looked at him. “Where’s Daimaru?”

The boy’s expression shut down. He shuffled his feet, kicking up sand. Finally, he said curtly, “Killed in action.”

Temari stared at him, not quite believing the words. “What?”

“On our last mission.” The boy rubbed a hand across one cheek, streaking sand across his skin. “Couple days ago.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know how to react.

The group of boys shuffled a bit more, clearly uncomfortable. When the silence stretched on for too long, they started moving awkwardly away, avoiding all eye contact with her. Jade lingered a moment, looking like he was going to say something, but then shook his head slightly and followed his friends.

Temari remained still, just thinking.

Dead.

Just like that.

Just here one day and gone the next.

She dug her toes into the sand, thinking hard. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to think, or do. There was a nagging longing in the pit of her stomach at the thought of never seeing him again. It was a strange, foreign feeling.

Maybe loneliness. She wasn’t sure. It was a weird feeling.

She went up onto the roof of the Kazekage building because it gave the nicest view. Then she just sat there, watching the endless rolling dunes. The sun was setting before she felt another presence on the roof, and she didn’t turn around, just stayed where she was, feet hanging over the edge and kicking idly at the wall.

“Temari.”

She tipped her head back slightly, just enough to catch half of Rasa’s face in her gaze.

“What are you doing up here?”

“Thinking.”

He came closer, standing slightly to her side, to look out over the village as well.

“Daimaru was killed.” She spoke softly. “We’re losing good shinobi too fast.”

“I know.”

“And the village is struggling. We don’t have enough food, we don’t have enough water. We have no allies, no help, nothing. The people here are getting desperate.”

Rasa didn’t add anything.

“Desperate people do stupid things.” She thought of the North desert, and all the new corpses she’d counted. One was so small, she would guess it had been less than a year old. Another life wasted. Another potential shinobi lost.

“I’m going to fix it,” Rasa said. “I have it under control.”

“Nothing in this village is under control,” she murmured.

“Temari. Trust me. Things will change soon.”

She tipped her head back, squinting up at Rasa. He looked down at her.

“Go and get some rest,” he said eventually. “You’ll have an important mission soon. I’ll be counting on you.”

“To do what?”

He stared at the sun, setting over the dunes. “Change the village.”


	23. Same As Always

“I don’t like it,” Temari muttered, pacing back and forth. Kankuro leant back in his seat, arms behind his head.

“What?”

“The alliance with Sound. I don’t like it.”

“Why not? We need alliances.” Kankuro shrugged. “Sure, Sound is a little creepy, but we need the help.”

“Doesn’t it just seem too convenient to you?” she asked, pausing in her pacing. “Suna’s struggling. We don’t have the manpower to complete missions; we’re struggling to get supplies through. This village is falling apart, and then suddenly we get offered an alliance?”

“Even if the offer is suspicious, we still need to take it,” Kankuro pointed out. “We aren’t in a position to turn anything down.”

“I don’t see this ending well.” Temari fidgeted with her hair. “After all the things we’ve heard about Orochimaru . . . We can’t trust him.”

“We don’t have to trust him, we just have to work with his men,” Kankuro pointed out. “Look, it’ll be the same as always. You watch my back, I’ll watch yours. It’s gonna be fine.”

“You know it won’t be fine. Baki wants to see all three of us later for the mission briefing – it’s going to be big. It’s going to be the biggest mission we’ve ever had.” She couldn’t explain it, but she was nervous, and she wasn’t used to feeling that way.

They both glanced at the door when it opened, and Baki entered, with Gaara behind him.

He looked at Temari, before sighing. “Sit down, please. This is going to take a while.”

She plopped down next to Kankuro, and Gaara moved off to lean against a wall.

Baki closed his eyes briefly. “Your next mission is going to be harder than anything I’ve asked of you before – all three of you. With the Sound Village’s help, and with a lot of consideration, we are going to overthrow the Hidden Leaf.”

 

Temari shoved the Kazekage’s office door open without warning, earning the attention of every guard in the area, who all leapt around her.

“Stand down,” she ordered stiffly, slamming the door in their faces.

Rasa sat back in his seat, looking resigned to whatever had caused Temari to storm in.

“War on Konoha?” she said tightly, striding over to him. “That’s your plan?”

“Temari,” Rasa said wearily, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t fight with me, please.”

“It’s suicide.”

“Not with Gaara.”

“They’re more than twice our size. They have triple our manpower – if not more.”

“And you alone are worth more than ten of them,” Rasa pointed out. “Kankuro, as well. And you know what Gaara can do. No one can match him.” He leant back in his chair, shoulders slumping. “We have to do something. Otherwise this village is going to die out. And as long as there is breath left in my body I will not allow this village to crumble.”

“And openly declaring war is the answer?” she snapped. “Dad, this is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Konoha is going to destroy us.”

“Children are dying, Temari,” Rasa snapped back. “Children are being left out in the desert to _die_ , every day, because we don’t the resources to support our own people. People are starving because we can’t get supplies through. Shinobi are falling victim to treatable wounds because our hospitals cannot get the supplies they need because villages like Konoha have a monopoly on supplies and vaccines. We have no resources, we are barely self-sufficient, we are running out of options. Something needs to change.”

“This isn’t the right way to do it!”

“Konoha will never be our allies,” Rasa’s dark eyes locked onto hers. “Unless we do something, Suna will not survive another generation. This is your village, Temari, you must see that changes need to be made.”

“Are these the changes that should be made?” she asked darkly. “Is this the plan – is this what Suna is going to become? Attacking other shinobi villages? There must be other options. There has to be a way that doesn’t put our entire shinobi force into the line of fire.”

“It’s not the entire force. And I can’t see another way to raise this village up. Whatever happens, Suna must survive. We’ve reached the point where desperate measures must be taken.”

She knew that. She saw it every day, skinny children and gaunt, haggard shinobi. Sand so dry it was mere dust, sun so hot it killed everything exposed to it.

“We haven’t raised Gaara to defend Suna, just to watch it fall,” Rasa continued. “I haven’t raised you and Kankuro to take over just to watch it die before you even get the chance. I have spent my life trying to keep this place afloat for you, and if this is my only option then I will take it. This is the only way to give Suna, and you, a future.”

Temari’s voice quieted a bit. “Is this the future Mom wanted?”

Rasa’s eyes snapped to hers, expression shutting down into a menacing scowl. “Temari.”

It was a warning, and she couldn’t mistake it.

She didn’t care. “Mom died for Gaara and you want to _use him_ , not to defend this village but to attack another! That’s not what she would have wanted you to do, and if you won’t listen to me, could you at least think about her?”

“Don’t you _dare_ bring your mother into this,” Rasa stood up abruptly, both hands slamming down on the desk.

Temari took one step back, but the defiance in her face never wavered.

“You have no idea what she wanted; you knew nothing about her,” Rasa shouted.

“She wanted this village to grow and be better,” Temari snapped back. “She wanted to see you lead it somewhere great. She wanted to see us all grow up and become amazing shinobi. _I know what she wanted!_ ”

“She has nothing to do with any of this.”

“She wouldn’t want you to openly declare war on another country; she wouldn’t want you to use Gaara as nothing but a weapon; he’s more than that!”

“Temari,” Rasa’s voice wavered slightly. “Shut up.”

Her anger was riding high, and Temari knew she should back down, but that wasn’t who she was. That wasn’t who Rasa raised her to be. “Could you face her with this and not feel guilt over what you’ve decided?”

“I told you to shut up!”

In a fit of rage, because attacking Konoha was never going to be okay, was never going to go well, Temari tore the bands from her hair, raking her fingers through it so it lay loose and untamed around her head, and stared Rasa down.

He stiffened slightly, and Temari raised her chin a bit more. She knew what she looked like. She knew, because she saw it every day, and people kept pointing it out to her, and she was not only Rasa’s daughter.

“Look me in the eye and tell me she would have agreed with this,” Temari said boldly.

She had less than a second to register the sound of something moving.

The sudden rush of gold slammed her hard against the wall, and she would have cried out if the gold dust hadn’t been tight around her throat. She scrambled at it, trying to pry it loose, breath caught still.

Panic flooded her when she couldn’t draw in air, and she clawed at the golden sand, unable to do much more than scratch at it weakly.

Rasa released his grip just enough to let her breathe, and she gulped in air. “Temari. You will do this mission. That is not up for debate. And I don’t want to _ever_ hear you mention your mother again, do you understand?”

She didn’t have the breath left to answer, and the gold dust held her fast, preventing any movement.

Rasa stared at her for a moment, before pulling the dust and her head away from the wall, and then slamming it back again with an astonishing amount of force.

Temari choked on her own breath, fingers digging into the dust and fruitlessly attempting to pull it away. The hit in the head made her vision flash white for a second, everything going silent, before sound and colour came rushing back in.

Rasa drew his gold dust back, and Temari slid down the wall to land in a heap on the floor, coughing violently as her throat was suddenly free. He sat down again, reaching for a stack of papers as though nothing had happened.

“You leave for Konoha in the morning, with Baki. I’ll be there later on. Keep Gaara in check.”

Temari stayed where she was, gasping for air.

“Tie your hair up and get out of here.” Rasa didn’t look at her.

Shakily, Temari rose to her feet, keeping one hand on the wall for support. She stayed leaning against it for a few moments until her vision returned to normal, until her throat no longer ached with every breath. She watched her father, warily, but he made no move to acknowledge her again.

She left his office, and wandered home.

 

“It’s a bad idea, and I want it on record right now that I said so,” Temari snapped, glaring at the dark night sky.

Kankuro sat beside her on the roof, face set in a scowl.

They knew Gaara was on the roof with them, but he had so far added nothing to the conversation.

“Should I go talk to Dad?” Kankuro asked.

“Don’t bother. I already tried. He’s set on doing this.” Temari drummed her heels into the wall, leaning back on her palms. Kankuro was eying the bruises on her neck, but he didn’t ask about them. “He’s got this idea in his head that this is the only way to save Suna. Like we’re only good for something if we’re killing people.”

“I am.”

They both craned their heads back to look at Gaara, surprised by his soft-spoken declaration. He stood a short distance away, staring blankly at them.

“You’re more than that, Gaara,” Temari said, after a long silence. “You’re not just a weapon.”

His face didn’t change, but she knew he disagreed.

“You tell him that, but we’re literally going to Konoha to kill as many people as possible,” Kankuro pointed out with a grimace. “It’s hard to see ourselves as anything but weapons.”

“But we are more than that,” Temari insisted, looking straight at Gaara.

He stared back.

“Dad’s not right about everything,” Temari added. “This mission is one of those things.”

“So, what’s your plan?” Kankuro asked. “Gonna go against what he says?”

“We’ll do the mission, because we’re shinobi, and we follow orders. It doesn’t mean it’s right.” She glanced at Kankuro. “Suna shinobi don’t back down, and we don’t quit. This is going to be tough, but there’s nothing the three of us can’t do.”

After all, no mission with Gaara had ever been failed before. He was invincible, and Temari took comfort in that. His invulnerability boosted her and Kankuro’s confidence. Konoha was going to be fine.

“After this,” Kankuro mused. “Think we can try be Chuunin for real?”

“Things like that don’t matter much here,” Temari shrugged. “We do high level missions all the time. No one cares what your rank is, only how well you perform.”

“But it’d still be cool,” Kankuro said. “Being Chuunin would be awesome.”

“Let’s just get through this first,” Temari murmured, closing her eyes and concentrating on the feel of the night air. “We might start a war after this. There might not be time for anything but trying to survive.”

“Heh,” Kankuro snorted. “Same as always, then?”

Temari opened her eyes with a slight chuckle. “When you put it like that, yeah. Same as always.”

Nothing to worry about. Nothing to stress about.

Nothing to fear.

_The same as always._

 

“Are you prepared for every eventuality?” Baki asked seriously.

Gaara nodded, but Baki wasn’t concerned about him. Gaara was always prepared.

It was the other two he needed to check on.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Kankuro shrugged. “Karasu has been fixed, I’ve got tools with me, we’ve been training every day. Everything is prepared.”

Temari flicked her bangs back. “Yeah, everything is sorted.”

“We don’t know what sort of battles we’re going to have,” Baki warned. “So you need to be able to adapt to anything.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Kankuro said nonchalantly. “We outclass Konoha’s shinobi anyway. We can handle whatever they throw at us.”

Baki didn’t look relieved. If anything, he looked doubtful. “You can be overconfident.”

“So is Temari,” Kankuro defended.

“But I’m ready for anything,” she snarked, elbowing him as they began crossing the desert.

“You know what,” Kankuro grumbled. “I hope something happens that you’re not ready for. I hope something takes you completely by surprise. Something you’d never, ever expect.”

“Like what?” she challenged.

“Like . . . Like . . .” He gestured vaguely, trying to come up with something outrageous and improbable, “Like you meet the love of your life.”

“Ha,” Temari snorted. “Like _that’ll_ ever happen.”


	24. And Then Everything Changed

The mission in Konoha turned out to be a shitshow of epic proportions. There wasn’t even time to say ‘I told you so’ to Kankuro, because they were too busy fighting for their lives, too busy fighting for Gaara’s life, too busy being so far beyond stunned that someone had hurt Gaara, that his impenetrable wall had been broken down.

Too shocked that some hyperactive loud-mouthed blonde kid had beaten Gaara into the ground, and too flabbergasted that Gaara seemed like an entirely different person once they picked him up out the dirt and panicked over him.

Too busy realizing Rasa wasn’t where he was supposed to be, and wondering where he’d gone, and searching and searching and searching for him . . .

Kankuro hadn’t gone to see the body. Temari had; and the Anbu had hovered endlessly around her while she took charge, arranging what was needed, looking helplessly to Baki for guidance. There hadn’t been time to feel anything, to examine how she felt over the fact that her father was unexpectedly dead, and she didn’t yet know what emotions she was going to attach to that event. It was something she had pushed to the back of her mind in order to focus on more important things, like getting home and keeping Gaara calm and realizing that the future of a village sat with her and Kankuro.

She sat in on countless council meetings trying to figure out what the next step was, overseeing an alliance with Konoha, fielding hints at becoming Kazekage, because she didn’t know if that’s what she wanted; she just wanted some breathing room for a while. She just wanted a moment to herself.

The entire ordeal was such a whirlwind of emotion and turnabouts that it was only once they were back home in Suna, the alliance signed, and things simmering down that Temari realised how angry she was. While they were in Konoha there hadn’t been time to focus on it – there had been a lot going on, and she’d had Gaara to worry about, and everything else, and her own feelings had been pushed down and ignored.

Once she was home, and finally doing nothing, she was livid. And not over her father. That was still being repressed, and she would deal with that another day.

“He gave up,” she snapped, slamming cupboard doors in the kitchen as a way to relieve the tension, since Baki had expressly asked that the three stayed at home under the radar for a while – he was hoping the rest would get them all into a better headspace.

Kankuro shuffled out her way when needed, trying to make a sandwich and not getting any body parts slammed in doors. “Hm?”

“He gave up,” she snarled again, kicking at the table for good measure. It slid a good foot across the floor. “He gave up, in the middle of a fight. Like I wasn’t good enough for him to bother with. Like he had everything under control and had won the match. Like the goddamn idiot coward he is!”

“Who?” Kankuro asked idly.

“That Nara kid! Fuck him; does he really think giving up is a suitable strategy? Damn useless Konoha kids, don’t know anything about being a shinobi. I’m gonna kill him one day, he won’t know what hit him.” She slammed a few drawers. Her Chuunin exam fight had been difficult, filled with endless confusion – at not only being bested in strategy, which she wasn’t used to, but also because her stupid Nara Whoever opponent had _given up._

It flew in the face of everything her father had ever told her, everything she had believed her whole life. He had her – he had her trapped, unable to move, to retaliate, to do a damn thing. She had been utterly helpless, struggling _so hard_ to break free, and then . . . he just let her go.

It had made her feel something she didn’t want to identify or acknowledge, and so she had shoved it down beneath her ready and familiar anger.

“Kick his ass,” Kankuro added blandly. “Show him what you’ve got.”

“Exactly. If I ever see him again, he’ll regret ever having to face me.”

“Then what?”

“What?”

“Then what? Are you just going to Konoha to kick Nara’s skinny butt?”

“Well, yeah. He annoyed me. I won’t have to see him again after that.” Temari ran out of steam, finally coming to a halt in the centre of the kitchen. “Didn’t he annoy you as well?”

“I was unaffected by him.” Kankuro picked up his sandwich and started leaving the kitchen.

Temari followed him, bristling slightly at the implication that Nara had had any effect on her whatsoever. She got side-tracked, though, as she passed Gaara’s door, and saw him sitting in a huddle against the wall.

The curtains were still drawn, and the room was dark.

Ordinarily, she would have passed him by without a second thought. But Konoha changed everything.

“Gaara?” she asked timidly, standing in the doorway. “Are you okay?”

To her surprise, she got a shaken head in response, and Gaara shrank down into himself a little more.

“Are you hurt?”

Another shake. Then, after a pause, he nodded, finally looking up at her.

“Where are you hurt?” She chanced coming closer, but she was ready to flee the moment he moved.

Gaara looked confused, shaking his head again, before he laid one hand over his heart, and said, in a raspy voice, “Here.”

Were his injuries still bothering him? She hesitated, wondering how close she could get safely. “Are you bleeding?”

“No. It just hurts.” He looked at her, as though for help that she did not know how to give. “Make it go away?”

_Fuck_ , her heart hurt too, now. Because that was the baby brother she remembered from so long ago. Buried beneath a monster for how many years, and now he was back and her maternal instincts flared, and she threw caution to the wind to sit down next to him. “I don’t know how to.”

He stared at the ground. After a tense silence, he said simply, “I’m sorry.”

There it was again. He had apologised once before, and at the time she and Kankuro had been too stunned to respond appropriately. “For what, Gaara?”

“Treating you the way I did. Letting Shukaku make all the decisions.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “Scaring you all the time.”

She chewed her lower lip. “It’s okay.”

And it really was.

Gaara hesitated again. “When is . . . when is Father coming home?”

Temari tensed. “He’s . . . not . . .”

They had told him this. They had told him Rasa was dead. But it seemed Gaara hadn’t quite grasped it, in his confused and weakened state.

“He’s dead, Gaara,” she said flatly. “He’s not coming home again. He’s gone, forever.”

“Oh.” Gaara looked at the floor. He was shaking faintly, and Temari tensed, ready to flee if needed. To her surprise, he asked thinly, “Should I be sad?”

“You can be whatever you want to be.” She didn’t know. She didn’t even know how she felt; she couldn’t possibly tell him what he should feel as well.

“Are you sad?” he asked her.

“Maybe.” There was an unreal feeling in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she was sad – there was _something_ , definitely, that could have been regret or maybe something akin to sadness. But mostly, she just felt white hot anger. She thought of gold dust tight around her throat, of the scar across her back, of being pinned down on a mission she tried to refuse, of being wary in her own home, because Gaara was unpredictable and Rasa’s temper flared without warning.

But she thought of gentle pats on her hair, approving smiles, learning everything about Suna, how he always called her ‘my princess’ and she wasn’t sure what she felt.

“Gaara,” she said, “I’m going to hug you.”

He looked surprised. “. . . What?”

Because her emotions were swirling, out of control and wild as the wind, and she needed something to hold onto. Because she felt relieved that Rasa couldn’t get near Gaara anymore, and she felt ashamed at herself for thinking that, and she felt awful that her father would never come home again, and she felt a great sense of peace that he would never come home again, and the conflict was just too much to handle.

She put both arms around Gaara, drawing him close, hooking her chin over his shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lower lip, because she didn’t want to startle him with sudden crying. Gaara tensed, muscles locking hard, but he didn’t move. She felt his breath still slightly, then there was a soft thump as Kankuro dropped down next to her, burying his face against her arm.

She detached it from Gaara, scooping Kankuro up into her grip as well. Gaara remained rigidly still, unused to any of this. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before Temari felt able to speak again without bursting into tears.

She sat back, letting both brothers go. “A lot of things are going to change around here. For all of us. We’ve been a team for a long time, and now we’re going to have to be more than that. Gaara,” she said, almost breathlessly because she never knew how to talk to him, “We’re family. And we stick together. And watch out for each other. Okay?”

He stared uncertainly at her.

“We protect each other,” she added. “And we talk. About anything. And if you don’t know what you’re thinking or what you’re feeling, Kankuro and I will help you. I know we haven’t been too good to you in the past, but . . .” She glanced at Kankuro, and he nodded, encouraging. “That changes now. Everything does.”

She had to hope it was for the better.

 

Kankuro stood with his hand in hers for most of the funeral. Gaara stood at her other side, looking small and uncertain, and Baki remained close by them. It was reassuring to have him at her back again, like a powerful wall of protection.

The elders kept shooting them strange looks, which Temari met defiantly, daring anyone to comment on the subdued and uncharacteristic melancholy of either of her brothers. Gaara edged a bit closer when he noticed them looking, and she took his hand in hers as well, holding both brothers securely to her.

It felt warm and real to have Gaara back, and even though her heart hammered when he was close, too used to being wary of him, his new-found vulnerability awakened a bright, protective fire in her.

Once the day was over, she stood inside the Kazekage’s office alone, staring out the window at a village bathed in red sunlight.

It felt strange to be in there without Rasa. And even stranger knowing he wouldn’t return.

The boiling anger that she carried everywhere was simmering down, tempered by Kankuro’s uncertainty and Gaara’s vulnerability, and her own realization that she had to step up even more, had to guide them and lead them, all alone.

There was no one to please. There was no one to answer to. There was no reason to be deliberately cruel, because no one was going to praise her for it. There was no reason to go outside and put herself into danger just to fight free, because no one was going to be proud of her for that.

She was suddenly the defining force in her life.

_It’s my village now_ , she thought. Because everything would fall to her, for now, until other plans were made. As the oldest, she took on the responsibilities. She took on everything. She had all the power, and all the potential to use it.

She was going to do exactly what Rasa wanted, the one thing that would gain his unwavering approval, the one thing that would make him proud.

_You wanted me to change it._ She looked at long black shadows. _And I will. With Kankuro and Gaara. It’s my village, and my family now._ She turned away. _And my family won’t live in fear._


	25. The Konoha Alliance

She wasn’t expecting anyone. The days had been passing in some sort of confusing haze, and she was hiding from the council, and their constant, nagging questions that she wasn’t ready to answer yet.

She wasn’t trying very hard to hide. She was sitting at Rasa’s desk, knees up by her chest, chin resting on them, just trying to clear her head and figure out where she was in life.

She lifted her head when there was a knock at the door, hesitating before calling out. “Yes?”

To her surprise, a familiar head popped around the door, with dark hair and blue eyes.

She sat up a bit straighter. “Laini?”

“Hey,” he said, softly. He paused. “My father is in town, talking to the council. I thought I’d . . . come and check on you.”

Temari didn’t know what to think of that. She gathered her wits, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “Um, come in.”

Laini entered the office, closing the door behind him. He approached the desk, stopping just in front of it to look her over. “How . . . how have you been?”

Temari took a moment to consider that. “Not sure? Like . . . It’s been strange. It feels like everything changed at once. Life just ran off and I haven’t caught up yet.”

Laini nodded. “I’m sorry about your father.”

“Not sure if I am.” Temari sighed. “I sound like a bitch, don’t I?”

“You sound like someone who’s human,” Laini said. “And isn’t sure what to think after losing a parent.” He sat down opposite her, the desk between them. “How are your brothers?”

Temari shrugged one shoulder. “Seem okay. I’m taking care of them. Kankuro’s just quieter than usual, but he’s okay. Gaara’s . . . different. It’s a good different, though. It feels weird not to be worried about what he’s doing, but the good weird.”

Laini nodded again, watching her carefully.

“And I’ve got everything in the village under control. Things are unstable, but we’re not in any more danger than usual. And I’ve been doing what I can. So, yeah,” she reached out a hand to nudge at some papers, “I’m taking care of everything.”

“Who’s taking care of you?” Laini asked quietly.

Her eyes snapped up to his. “What?”

“You,” Laini repeated. “Who is taking care of you?”

“I am, obviously.” Her first instinct was to be defensive, defiant, and she was in a bad enough mood to react with instant anger. She asked snippily, “What are you even doing here?”

“Checking on you, because I’m worried about you,” Laini said. “You got handed a village. With no warning.”

“A lot of my life happened with no warning.” She leaned back slightly. “I’m not going to fall apart because of this – that’s not how Suna shinobi live. We keep going. No matter what.” She glared at him. “What’s your end game, with me?”

“What?”

“What do you want from me, eventually? All men want something.” She wasn’t in the mood for being civil.

“Would you believe me if I said I just want you to be happy for once?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Might believe it if I were in a better mood. But we know that’s not going to happen.” She raised an eyebrow. “So? You’ve been eying me.”

“Ever since we met, you’ve been on my mind. I’ve grown up trapped,” Laini said. “Stuck in one place for most of my life. Then I heard about you – Rasa’s daughter, who takes on anything and doesn’t care about being prim and proper. And I read about the things you could do, and I thought, isn’t that someone who’s going to grow up to be amazing?”

Temari’s eyes narrowed.

“When I heard you’d be at the Estate, I did make a point to seek you out. See if you were as good as the stories said. I told you, you interest me.”

“And what do you gain from your interest in me?”

“Ideally,” Laini began slowly, “You and I would end up together. If you didn’t become Kazekage.”

Temari snorted, leaning her head against the back of her chair. “So, that’s what you’re after.”

“It was an ideal. Not a concrete plan. There are very few people in the world like you. Was it wrong to wish to spend my life with one of them?”

She ran a hand across her face. “Entitlement is dangerous, Laini.”

“So are you.”

She looked at him sharply. There was a need within her to fight against him, to fight for some reason, because that’s what she did and that’s all she knew. But she was tired, and drained, and wanted company. She wasn’t giving in, but she was tired of fighting everyone and everything.

“You can’t have me,” she said wearily. “I won’t let you. But if you keep whatever your future plans are to yourself, then you can stay. I could use some company.” She wasn’t intimidated by him, and if anything she felt more relaxed and in control knowing what he was thinking.

“Done.” Laini agreed promptly, and his sudden submission almost made Temari smile.

Laini watched her for a few minutes. “When are they naming you Kazekage?”

“We haven’t set a date yet.” Truth be told, Temari had been putting it off. She wasn’t sure why – it wasn’t doubt in herself, or even doubt that it was the right thing for her village. She just didn’t want to commit right now, didn’t want to set the rest of her future in stone. She would miss her freedom.

“You’ll be a good Kazekage.”

“I won’t have a choice.”

They both fell silent then, until Laini cleared his throat, softly. “Want to take a walk? Get some air, clear your head?”

She sighed heavily. “Might be nice.”

Laini stood up. “Or, if you want, we could do something else.”

“Like what? If you wanna convince me that we should start dating, save it. I’m putting men on hold for a while.” She rubbed a hand across her face again, trying to wipe away the lingering exhaustion.

“I don’t spend much time in Suna, so I don’t know any good places. But,” Laini offered her a hand. “If you lead the way, I’ll take you dancing.”

She looked up at him, and for what felt like the first time since returning from Konoha, a slow, genuine smile curled her lips.

 

_I miss you._

She hadn’t been sure if she would or wouldn’t, but there was a hollowness that had settled in her stomach since Rasa had died. Everything felt eerie and unreal. The house was always silent. She didn’t know where to look when she passed his bedroom.

Gaara hovered when she was in the house, uncertain and trying to find a new role in life. Kankuro moped in his room. Everything felt stuck.

She stood in the doorway to Rasa’s room, staring into the darkness. It was late, and she was tired, but she didn’t want to go to sleep yet. She had spent the day with the elders, trying to figure out Suna’s future, and her future.

The village felt as stuck as her family – with nothing going nowhere.

And she was overwhelmed, and confused, and unsure what to do with the rolling emotions that she had never been taught to deal with.

So she stayed where she was, leaning against the doorframe to Rasa’s bedroom, arms folded over her stomach, and wondering what happened next. She missed Rasa’s guidance. She missed having someone to look up to. _She missed him._

Now, it was all on her. Now, Kankuro was looking to her for guidance. Gaara was looking to her for help and support. An entire village was looking to her the way they used to look to Rasa, and she wasn’t ready to fill his shoes. She wasn’t ready to be everything he wanted her to be. With a sigh, she turned away to go to her room and try to sleep.

In the morning, when the world was bright and the shadows were gone, she would figure it out.

 

“You three!” Baki could be heard, shouting from downstairs. “Down here _now_! Emergency call from Konoha!”

Temari and Kankuro exchanged glances. They had been sitting together in Kankuro’s room, talking idly. Things had been quiet in Suna, with the council backing off, making preparations to name her Kazekage. The entire village was tense, as they had lost manpower from the Konoha ordeal, and were scrambling to find enough missions to keep them afloat. There was uncertainty brewing as well, with Temari suddenly being nervous about being handed an entire village.

But it’s what Rasa wanted. It’s what would have made him proud of her.

Temari and Kankuro wandered downstairs, seconds ahead of Gaara, who stood quietly at Kankuro’s side. It was his new place to stand, closer than ever.

Baki held up a scroll. “Konoha is calling for back up. They have a team nearby, led by Nara Shikamaru, that needs assistance.”

Temari tilted her head slightly, a slow smirk rising on her face.

“Uzumaki Naruto is also in that team. You three are to intercept and assist, and then accompany the team back to Konoha to do whatever else they ask of you. You’re on your own; I’m needed here. Gaara, you’re in charge.”

“Why is Gaara in charge? Temari’s the oldest.” Kankuro pointed out.

Baki looked at him. “Gaara, why are we doing this mission?”

“To protect Naruto and our bond with the Leaf village,” Gaara replied instantly, gravely.

Baki looked at Temari. “Temari, why are we doing this mission?”

“I’m gonna kick Nara’s ass.”

“That’s why,” Baki said firmly, eying Kankuro. “Because Temari has a grudge against the team leader.”

“It’s not a grudge,” Temari grumbled. “He’s an idiot, and I’m gonna make sure he knows it.”

Baki sent a pained looked to Kankuro. “Keep an eye on her, please.”

“I don’t need anyone watching me,” Temari rolled her eyes. “I won’t do anything stupid.”

 

She hadn’t exactly kept her word. Sure, she hadn’t done anything stupid, per se, but maybe she had been just a little snappish at Shikamaru. Maybe she had been a little short tempered with him. Maybe she’d been a bit cocky and overconfident, and maybe she’d been a bit violent with that red-headed flute chick, whoever she was.

Maybe she had gone a bit overboard. Maybe she didn’t need to fell a square kilometre of forest, but it had got her point across – she was better than him. She was not weak, she was not to be underestimated, and she could kill him in an instant if she wanted to.

And if he said a goddamn thing about her being a woman, well, there probably wouldn’t be an alliance between Suna and Konoha anymore, but there sure as hell would be a dead body. And maybe she had really, really enjoyed his surprise, and been just a smidgen smug about it.

She wasn’t sure what made her follow him back to the hospital. Part of her was still annoyed at him over their Chuunin exam match. Honestly, she wanted to intimidate him into something, she didn’t know what. Maybe admitting he had been stupid. Maybe validate her pride a bit, it wouldn’t matter. But she wanted to bother him in some way, get under his skin like he had done to her.

Her plans flew out the window when they actually got back to Konoha. She had been grating his nerves, trying to goad him into getting riled up, when their new Hokage – some blond woman, Temari hadn’t exactly read the mission briefing thoroughly – let them know that everyone would survive.

That was the moment her perception of Shikamaru changed.

She had him pegged as arrogant and overconfident, because why else would he think he could quit a match against her? And he was a man; they were all the same anyway. All thinking they could overpower her and take advantage of her, all thinking they were entitled to something. All dangerous and shady and not to be trusted with anything, driven by ego and entitlement.

But now, she was watching him cry over a mission. Watching him claim he wasn’t suited to be a shinobi at all, and he should quit, he shouldn’t be doing this.

She followed him when he left the hospital, keeping her distance as he went far enough to be able to collapse against a tree and sob into his hands. And she didn’t know why she was following him, it didn’t make sense, but he was so different to everyone else and it intrigued her.

Because men didn’t do this, they didn’t cry, they didn’t give up, they never admitted weakness.

“You did fine,” she said eventually, and she had the satisfaction of watching Shikamaru almost leap out of his skin.

He whipped around to face her, looking mortified, “Oh my god, you’re still there.” Hastily, he wiped the tears from his face. He kept his eyes down. “Are you following me?”

“Everyone’s alive. Your strategies all worked.” She had no idea why she was being nice to him. He just . . . looked like he needed it.

He shrugged, still looking at the ground. His Chuunin vest absolutely dwarfed him, and she saw him for exactly what he was – a twelve-year-old boy terrified that his inadequate leadership would be the reason his friends came home in body bags. He seemed wary of her presence, and it annoyed her a bit.

“I don’t bite, you know,” she said.

Shikamaru rubbed one hand across his eye again, catching a stray tear. “Everything in the desert bites.”

_Smart ass_. “At least we’re not cry-babies.”

“You suck at comforting people.”

She grinned, razor sharp and feral, and he actually flinched. She loved his reactions. He was fascinating to watch. “Never needed to be good at it – we don’t fail missions in Suna.”

“You fail them here, though,” he said idly. “Didn’t quite manage to overthrow us, did you?”

Her grin vanished, replaced by something like hot anger. “Yeah, well, shut up.”

He irritated her. He seemed immune to verbal sparring, never rising to anything. His apathy was annoying. His giving up was annoying. _He_ was annoying. “I want a rematch.”

Shikamaru cocked an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? It would be troublesome, and you won anyway.”

She took a step towards him and he scrambled back to keep the distance the same. “I _want_ a rematch.”

“You’re not getting one.” Shikamaru stayed close to the tree, in its shadow, keeping himself at an advantage.

Temari didn’t push it further – it probably wouldn’t be good for the Suna-Konoha alliance if she shredded half the village, and she didn’t really need Kankuro teasing her for yet again making a political mistake. She snorted. “Whatever, crybaby. I’m going to find my brothers, then.”

She didn’t look back at him, but she knew he watched her leave.


	26. Kazekage

“Shadow boy keeps watching you,” Kankuro said casually, sitting on a tree branch and tinkering with Karasu. They had grouped outside Konoha’s Academy, with Temari and Kankuro sitting in a tree, and Gaara following Naruto around with a carefully blank expression that somehow still looked like absolute adoration.

Temari thought it was cute.

She smirked at Kankuro. “Yeah, he’s been doing that every day. Does he think we don’t know he’s there?”

“Gaara said it’s part of his ‘mission’,” Kankuro grinned, messing with a puppet screw. “He and Naruto discussed it at length, apparently.”

“What, his mission is stalking me?” Temari rolled his eyes. “I hope no one ever uses him for stealth.”

“Tell him we know he’s there.”

“No. You do it.”

“Why? He’s not watching me.”

“Maybe he thinks I’m gonna just attack out of nowhere for my rematch.”

“You make him nervous.”

“Good,” her smirk widened. “I like that.”

“Hey, shadows,” Kankuro called. “We know you’re there.”

“Wasn’t hiding,” came the grumbling reply. Shikamaru stepped out to where they could see him clearly, hands shoved in his pockets. The Chuunin vest made him look more hunched than he was, and Temari smirked. Little boy trying to act tough.

“Why are you following us?” Kankuro asked.

“Checking on you,” came the succinct reply. “You’re guests in the village – highly suspicious guests, but guests none the less. It’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of properly.”

“We’re fine, crybaby,” Temari assured, smirk widening at the way he winced at the nickname. Did he know he looked like a kicked puppy? It made her want to ‘kick’ him again, just to get another reaction from him. “You can run along and do whatever you want.”

“We’ll let you know if we need anything,” Kankuro added.

They had been popping in at the Academy a few times, interested in the way Konoha raised shinobi, and Temari was hoping to get a similar system into place in Suna. The teachers in Konoha were happy to share theories and systems, and Temari had found being in the village remarkably relaxing. Except her constant, irritating shadow.

Shikamaru’s expression had soured, but he didn’t bother retorting. He shrugged, attempting nonchalance, and turned to leave.

“He’s cute,” Temari grinned.

Kankuro snorted. “If you like whiny crybabies.”

She stared at the path Shikamaru had taken. “Maybe I do.”

 

She sought him out the next time.

Shikamaru was lying on a hill, staring at the clouds. He didn’t move when she sat down next to him.

“You’re a shit guide.”

He didn’t reply. His eyes tracked the clouds.

“We’re leaving today,” Temari said.

“I know.”

The silence stretched on.

Why had she come to him? He was pathetic and unmotivated and she didn’t care about him at all. Not the way he tensed up over his friends, not the way he kept his self-critical tendencies hidden behind apathy. Not the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

Why did he look at her like that?

“So, you’re gonna be Kazekage?” He was doing it again, watching her carefully and sideways.

“Yeah.” She avoided his eyes.

“Sounds troublesome.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Lot of responsibility. No time to watch the clouds roll by.”

“Not many clouds in Suna.”

“Hm.” He looked at the sky again. After a pause, he said softly, “You’d have to come here to watch them, then. When you can.”

“There won’t be time to just laze around like you do.” She sniffed.

“Troublesome. Why would you want that?”

“I don’t-“ She cut herself off. The thought had just spilled out. But it was wrong, surely. She _did_ want this. She desperately wanted this, because Rasa wanted this – “I want to be Kazekage. My father wanted that.”

He looked at her critically, clever eyes looking right through her. He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

They both fell silent again.

Minutes dragged by, before Shikamaru murmured, “So, Rasa’s daughter wants to be Kazekage. What does Temari want?”

“She wants you to shut up,” Temari growled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her anger flared. “You’re just a lazy, useless nothing who has no idea what responsibility means. You think you can just coast through life with zero effort, well, not everyone gets that. I _have to_ do this, it’s what my father wants, it’s what I . . . It’s my village. Mine.”

She stood up, still snarling at him. “You don’t know anything about the real world.”

Shikamaru sat up, eying her carefully. He let the silence linger before he said softly, “Guess we won’t see each other much.”

What did he mean by that? She faltered. “No. We won’t.”

Not that it mattered. He didn’t matter. Being Kazekage mattered. Making Rasa proud mattered.

What Temari wanted didn’t matter.

Shikamaru didn’t matter.

“Good luck,” he said, voice still soft. “Thanks for helping me.”

He angled his body slightly, and his shadow touched hers.

She left without saying goodbye.

 

Once home again, Temari dodged the council and their constant whining about the economy to get the files and records she needed, and retreat home to focus on improvements to Suna. She had been sitting at her desk for hours, lost in thought, when a voice interrupted.

“What are you doing?”

Temari nearly leapt out her skin. She jerked around; eyes wide. “Gaara!”

He inched closer, looking down at her desk, where there were numerous books piled up, some open. Her notes were scattered around.

“I’m . . . Looking at our statistics. Missions completed successfully, number of shinobi. That sort of thing.”

“Why?”

She relaxed a bit, settling into the ‘new’ normal, which was not being deathly afraid of her youngest brother. “I’m comparing it to Konoha’s numbers. Wondering if having an actual academy makes a difference. I’m trying to improve the village.”

Gaara nodded, and stared as she tentatively continued, making a note about the new numbers of shinobi added to the mission roster each year. After a few minutes of silence, Gaara spoke again.

“Teach me,” Gaara asked simply.

“What?” Temari blinked.

“All the things you know. About the village. I want . . .” He hesitated. “I want to be able to protect it as well, the way you and Kankuro do. I want to know everything you know about it. Our home.”

“O-okay,” she replied somewhat nervously, unused to Gaara looking over her shoulder and not having sand swirling nearby. “Do you wanna . . . sit down . . .? And I’ll show you what I’m doing.”

To her surprise, Gaara plopped down right next to her, so close they were almost touching, and peered at her notes.

She stared at the side of his face, trying to keep herself calm. “I . . . So, this is a list of all the active shinobi we have, divided by level – you know, Genin, Chuunin. And then there’s how many missions they’ve completed by rank. This is for last year, and I’ve got the other years all the way back until Kankuro and I started officially on missions.”

Gaara’s expression was interested. He leaned close to her, intent on absorbing all information.

Temari almost smiled. “Wanna see your record, too?”

He nodded, keeping silent.

Temari shuffled things around until she found his file. “This is yours.”

Gaara waited, chin almost on her shoulder, for her to open it and page through. It was kind of cute, how he waited for her to make the next move.

“It’s got all your missions reports, all your statistics and stuff. What I’m trying to do is compare the records of all our shinobi for every year, and compare them to Konoha. Their Hokage let me have copies of some of their numbers. They have a proper education system in place, and I’m wondering if it affects the success rates of missions.”

“You want to have a school here?” Gaara murmured.

“Yes, eventually. Everyone in Suna is very specialised in their techniques. It’ll probably be beneficial if younger shinobi are more diverse. Having a general grasp of all techniques could be advantageous in the field.”

Gaara nodded.

“I’m not sure where we’d put a school, but with the Konoha alliance, we can ask for consultants to come into Suna and give ideas, and assess what we’ve got.”

“It sounds like it will be a difficult project.”

“Yeah.” Temari shrugged. Her shoulder bumped Gaara’s chin, but he didn’t pull away. “But it’ll help. And I want to do it. Suna needs to improve.”

“Okay.” Gaara actually leant on her. “Keep going. I’m listening.”

She kept a close watch on him out the corner of her eye, but he was quiet and passive. Deciding there was no danger, she continued with what she was doing, explaining as she went along. Gaara absorbed everything silently, occasionally asking questions, mostly just listening.

She liked having him on her shoulder.

 

She missed her father. She hadn’t known if she would or wouldn’t, but she was sitting in his office, at his desk, and thinking the village seemed emptier. There was a lot she wanted to say to him, that she would never get to say. There was a lot she wanted to ask.

She suddenly wished she had asked about her mother more. How did they meet? How did they fall in love? How would she ever know if she fell in love; how would she ever know if she met the right person? There were a lot of unanswered questions, and they would remain forever unasked.

She ran her hand gently along the wooden desk. Rasa wouldn’t scold for her kicking at it again, in her adolescent, uncontrolled anger. He wouldn’t let her sit beside him while he worked and explain every step of how the village functioned. He wouldn’t absently ruffle her hair when he walked past her. All those moments were gone.

All the good, all the bad. It was gone forever.

It was just her, now, sitting in his chair and staring at the gold-plated pen she had never been allowed to touch. Leisurely, she reached for it, turning it curiously in her fingers. Her mother’s name was engraved on the end. It weighed less than she thought it would.

It didn’t feel right, sitting in his chair, twirling his pen, staring at his desk. It felt locked in and suffocating. It felt like the walls were closing in around her. It felt lonely and despairing and inevitable.

It felt like the wind couldn’t howl through her, and the sun couldn’t reach her, and the desert was pushed aside for a cold wooden desk and a future of longing to be outside.

Temari threw the pen onto the desk again, wrapped her arms around herself and let herself cry.

 

“I don’t want to be Kazekage.”

Baki’s head shot up, and he gaped at her.

Temari stood firm in front of him as he looked over a few mission reports, but she didn’t meet his eyes. She stared at the floor, chewing her bottom lip. “It’s not . . . not what I want. I want . . . to keep seeing the world. I want to keep travelling. I want the wind, and I want the freedom. I don’t want to be tied down.”

“This village needs someone,” Baki began. “Someone to raise them up. Someone to protect them. Someone they can trust and believe in.”

“I know. And I know it’s meant to be me, and Dad always wanted that, but . . .” She looked up, tentatively. “But I’m not ready.”

“Suna needs you. And you are ready.” Baki sighed. “I’m not surprised, really. I thought you might change your mind.”

“Why did you think that?” she asked curiously.

“When you got over yourself,” Baki explained, “And realized you were more than Rasa’s daughter, I thought you would want to forge your own path instead. And I knew, from the day I saw you lift that fan, that you were never going to be able to be caged up in an office.”

Temari shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but she was pleased at his words.

“Rasa told me once,” Baki continued, clearing his throat. “That you and Karura were the same. Wild winds that he couldn’t keep hold of. That just slipped right through his hands, no matter how hard he tried to keep you close.”

She blinked. Her heart jumped unexpectedly. “Dad said that about me?”

“Yes.” Baki sighed. “You’re a hurricane, Temari. I’m not going to tell you to change yourself. But it doesn’t change the fact that Suna still needs someone.”

“Actually,” Kankuro stuck his head into the room, looking sheepish. “I have something to talk to you about . . .” He shuffled awkwardly inside, then gestured vaguely at the door.

Gaara entered, looking oddly nervous.

“Gaara wants to be Kazekage,” Kankuro explained. “You know, to change how people see him. And make up for the things he’s done.”

Baki closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “While I’m happy you’re making the effort, Gaara, you’re still far too inexperienced. Temari is not.”

“How about,” Kankuro started, “Tem and I keep teaching Gaara, until he is ready? The three of us can work together. All of us looking out for the village. And when Gaara’s ready to take the hat, then we can name him officially. ‘Til then the village can just put up with all three of us bugging them.”

Temari smiled. “I like that idea.”

It gave her an out, it gave Gaara a goal, and everyone was happy.

Baki nodded, looking resigned. “I know better than to argue with you three. Fine. We’ll set up a meeting with the elders. Gaara will be trained by you two, and anyone else I see fit, until he’s ready. Temari, you can keep going with your pet projects for this village. The elders are going to have a fit when they hear we’re not officially appointing someone as Kazekage.”

“Good,” Temari smirked. “It’s been a while since I did something that made them squirm.”

“And three heads are better than one,” Kankuro said cheerfully. “They can bitch all they like; we still have the controlling interest in the village and Temari can do whatever she likes since she’s the official heir. They can’t tell her she’s wrong.”

Baki just nodded, but Temari could see the well-concealed pride shining in his eye.

“We’ll be the Kazekage team,” Kankuro stated confidently. “Because why not?”

“And better than that,” Temari said, smiling fondly at Gaara, who gave a shy smile back at her. “We’re the Kazekage family.”


	27. Sunshine Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter very helpfully edited by my sister's cat. I think I caught and corrected all of his additions, but if there's a keyboard smash lurking somewhere, I promise I haven't gone insane - It was the cat.
> 
> Not a great excuse, I know, but what can you do?

It was a few months later that Temari had done enough research in Suna, and decided she needed more hands-on information from the actual source of her inspiration.

“I’m going to Konoha to observe their Academy for a week or two,” Temari announced after breakfast one morning. “Any messages you need taken?”

“Just say hello to Naruto for me,” Gaara asked quietly, adding, in an even softer voice, “Please.”

She was still adjusting to him. Still adapting to Gaara being so different. She looked to Kankuro, but he just shrugged.

“Nothing from my side. I’ll keep the council occupied.” The latest hobby the council seemed to have was hounding Temari about getting married – and it didn’t matter how many times she and Kankuro pointed out it was a Bad Idea, they wouldn’t let it go, spouting all sorts of reasons.

A political marriage will help stabilize Suna.

It’ll help create allies, and economic ties with another village.

There was the unspoken bonus of ‘It’ll keep Temari under control’ that she and Kankuro had been ignoring, because neither of them felt she needed to be under control. She was doing just fine as she was – wild and free as the desert wind, and twice as dangerous.

“Tell them I’m not getting married to anyone unless they all kill themselves before the wedding,” Temari shrugged. “That should keep them amused for a while. Oh,” she added, “Kankuro, remember to go over the trade shit with Gaara? He has to learn it.”

“We started that already,” Kankuro said. “But yeah, we’ll finish it.”

Temari didn’t know how to say it, but she was damned proud of both her brothers. “Okay. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Keep the village in one piece while I’m gone.”

“Seeing as you’re the most destructive thing in it,” Kankuro mused, “It’s more likely to be fine if you’re not here.”

She chose to let that go, beaming in delight when Gaara actually chuckled under his breath at Kankuro’s remark.

Who knew their father dying would have such a positive effect on the family?

 

The gates to Konoha came into view, and she smiled, relieved the journey was over. She was keen to work, to learn all she could, to help raise Suna up. To her surprise and secret delight, there was none other than Nara Shikamaru waiting at the gates, with a scowl that darkened his whole face. She was concerned he might dislocate a shoulder if he slouched any more.

“Hey, Crybaby,” she smirked, the moment she was within earshot. “Miss me?”

He grunted. “No.”

“You couldn’t wait to meet me here,” her grin broadened. “Need me to save you from any more big, bad monsters?”

“I’m here ‘cause it’s my job,” Shikamaru muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not my idea, and I tried to reject the mission.”

It was going to be fun teasing him. Suddenly there was an extra perk to Temari’s mission. “Very noble of you.”

He made a pained expression. “Are you going to be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” She fell into step at his side, as he dragged himself away from the gate. Konoha looked different again, and Temari wasn’t going to admit it, but she probably wouldn’t have got far without a guide.

“Like a woman,” he muttered.

It was unfortunate that punching him would breach their peace treaty. “Yes.”

His next sigh had a groan underlaid within it, and it brought forth a curl of vicious satisfaction in Temari’s gut. _Let him suffer_ , she thought.

“What are you sighing about now?” she demanded.

“Women,” Shikamaru muttered. “They’re all crazy.”

She rolled her eyes. _Men_.

“Always saying the opposite of what they mean and never making any sense. Never know what they’re thinking-“

“Have you tried asking?” she mocked, anger on the rise.

“I have, and women don’t answer questions normally, so it doesn’t help-“

“Shut up,” she snapped, and he threw her an irritated look.

“See, that’s what I mean,” he grumbled, and Temari gritted her teeth. “Interrupting me when I’m trying to explain why all women are-“

She grabbed the front of his Chuunin vest, hauling their faces together.

“ _Shut up_ ,” she snarled, and he drew his head back a bit. “Stop talking shit about women all the time, you sexist asshole.”

Shikamaru stayed very still, just watching her.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been,” she continued, a growl behind every word. “You grew up in this hippy progressive village where everyone is equal, but I _didn’t_. I fought to get to where I am now.” She had a whole council at home breathing down her neck and constantly reminding her that she was just an object to them, just a bargaining chip, just an offering and barely even human.

She wasn’t going to take that from Shikamaru as well, the know-it-all prick.

“I’ve spent my life around people who thought I was less than them because I was a woman, even though I could kill you where you stand, right now,” she snarled. “And I stand before you now as your fucking equal, you piss-poor excuse for a man, so don’t let me ever hear you complain again about women as though you are better than we are.”

Shikamaru waited cautiously, to see if she would add anything more. When she just glared at him, expression fiery and alive, he relaxed a fraction.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, and she startled a bit, not expecting the apology. Certainly not expecting it to sound so sincere.

She studied him carefully, looking for any sort of falsehood, any sign he was saying it just to placate her. She found none. She never did with him – he always meant what he said and said what he meant.

She drew herself up, stepping back a bit. She wanted nothing more than to punch him in his smug face, but she held the urge back, instead saying stiffly, “I appreciate the apology.”

She saw him let out a tense breath, and it made her feel a bit better, knowing she had worried him.

He shoved his hands in his pocket, and, very consciously, moved to put his shadow over hers. He didn’t look at her. “We’re gonna be late.”

_Trap me again and I’ll skin you alive_ , she thought harshly, eying him as they walked together. If he moved his hands she was going to kill him, alliances be damned. She’d write a formal apology to Konoha, but she was never letting him hold her against her will again.

Although, she loved the fact that she had rattled him enough to think he needed to find an advantage over her. He wouldn’t have moved if he wasn’t scared.

The power over him was thrilling.

 

Temari had lingered on the journey home, taking her time to enjoy the peace and quiet, and the wind in her hair. On the crest of a dune, she had stopped to pull the bands from her hair and let it fly free, eyes closed against the wind, a smile on her face.

As she entered the village now, the sun was setting, and the streets were bathed in deep orange light. The shadows were long, and she stepped deliberately into them, almost smirking when none of them caught her and froze her in place.

These shadows were no longer threats.

She took a meandering path home, in no rush, just letting the sights and smells of home sink in slowly. Her quiet musing was abruptly interrupted by a high-pitched scream of terror, and Temari whipped in the direction of the scream, hand moving automatically to her fan.

She gripped it securely, moving across the streets towards the sound. It led her to a narrow, dark alley, and she took in the situation in a glance. Three men had cornered a young girl – maybe Gaara’s age, Temari noticed, and her anger flared.

She yanked the fan from her back, jamming it into the ground and snarling, “ _Hey_.”

All four people present turned towards her, the girl cowering back, and the men advancing.

Temari held her ground. “Get away from her.”

“We weren’t doing anything wrong,” one of the men answered, voice loaded with ill-intent.

Temari looked at the girl, who shrank back, looking absolutely terrified. Temari snapped her fan open, and the men suddenly seemed to reconsider.

They all hesitated.

“We were just leaving, anyway,” another added. “Not causing any trouble.”

“Well,” she said, “I like looking for trouble. I can cause some for you.”

It took her less than five minutes to take down all three men, stepping over them to reach the girl. Up close, Temari recognized her.

“Matsuri?”

She was a young shinobi, dutifully starting to attend the classes that were recently set up in the village. She wasn’t anything special as a ninja, but Temari recognised her because she had taken a keen interest in Gaara, and Temari had thought it was sweet.

“Are you hurt?” Temari asked. There was a vague, acquiescing groan from one of the men sprawled on the floor.

“I’m fine,” Matsuri answered in a small voice.

“What are you doing here?” Temari put her fan on her back. “This isn’t a part of town you should be wandering in alone. It’s not a very nice area.”

“I live around here,” Matsuri said, cheeks flaring pink. “I was just late coming home after training.”

That made Temari’s chest tighten oddly. “You live here?”

“Yeah,” Matsuri brushed some hair behind her ear, looking like she was trying to do something to hide her shaking hands.

Temari stared at her. “Let me walk you home.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose, and I’m sure you have better things to do-“

“I do. I have a village and its young shinobi to protect. So, let me walk you home.” Temari replied levelly, and this time Matsuri backed down.

“This way,” she squeaked, moving awkwardly around the three bodies lying sprawled out to exit the alley. Temari followed, chin up. After a short silence, Matsuri asked, “Why did you attack them like that? They were going to leave.”

“Because,” Temari said, “Men are slow learners. They wouldn’t have learnt anything by leaving. Now,” she said, vicious satisfaction in her voice, “They know better than to corner you.”

“Oh.” Matsuri didn’t add anything after that. She stayed silent until they reached her home, then bowed long and low. “Thank you very much, Princess.”

“Any time,” Temari waved off her thanks. “Stay safe.”

Matsuri thanked her again, profusely, and Temari wandered home again with a frown on her face.

 

“I want Anbu patrolling other parts of town after dark,” Temari announced.

Gaara looked up. He was sitting next to Kankuro at the kitchen table, poring over some ancient set of laws, occasionally asking Kankuro for help interpreting them.

Kankuro slouched in his seat. “What now?”

Baki was with them, sitting at the head of the table and studiously going over the Chuunin exam reports. He didn’t look up. “We don’t have enough Anbu to patrol the entire village.”

“Not the entire village,” Temari pushed her bangs back. “Just certain areas. We have enough Anbu to spare. We can have fewer around here, for example.”

“You can’t lower security around the Kazekage heirs,” Baki said, still not looking up.

“We’re invincible,” Temari pointed out, and Kankuro smirked. “We don’t need protection. Not the amount we have, anyway. Gaara’s untouchable.”

“I’m a badass, too, you know,” Kankuro put in.

“You’re half right; you’re an ass,” Temari retorted. “But think about it. We have Anbu to spare. They could patrol other parts of the village and protect other people. We don’t need it.”

“Why the sudden need to decrease security here?” Kankuro asked. “You planning on slipping out at night for a booty call? What’s his name?”

Gaara looked mildly alarmed at Kankuro’s words, and Baki finally looked up.

“Temari,” he began slowly, “What are you doing-“

“I’m not seeing anyone,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s not for me. But a lot of shit happens to other people in this village. I think we should step up and protect them. We have no future if we have no young shinobi to take the place of older ones. With the village still in a drought, and numbers low and missions hard to come by, it makes sense to decrease the number of in-village incidents. There are fights in the streets all the time. Anbu can at least stop some of it from occurring.”

“Dad never did that,” Kankuro said.

“Dad never cared about collateral damage,” Temari pointed out. “But how often have shinobi been pulled from missions because of injuries off the field? How many kids have been beaten in alleys because men decided they wanted to take their anger out on someone helpless?”

“It’s not just men,” Kankuro protested.

Temari sent him a look. “We can discuss sexism later, but you know I’m right.”

Gaara smiled softly, ducking his head down in an attempt to hide it.

“Not all men,” Kankuro grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and giving Temari a sour glare.

She cocked an eyebrow. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been catcalled and ambushed by women. Want to know what the number is for men?”

“That’s unfair. We have more men in the village. And, hold on a minute, you’ve been catcalled by women?”

“Of course I have,” Temari scoffed. “I’m the princess, everyone wants me.”

“Everyone must be stupid,” Kankuro grunted. “How come no one ever says nice things to me?”

“Probably your stupid clothes and stupid face paint,” Temari suggested.

“Getting off topic,” Baki interjected. “Go back to the patrols.”

“What, should I bat my eyelashes and show some cleavage?” Kankuro asked. “Imagine how many people would call out to you if you wore a shorter skirt.”

“Don’t,” Baki said warningly. He was ignored by both siblings.

“Maybe more would call out to you if _you_ wore a skirt,” Temari smirked.

Kankuro jumped up from his seat, and Gaara shuffled his chair up out of the way, taking the book with him. “Watch me, Tem! I’ll get that dumb purple dress you like and put that on!”

“Don’t you dare!” Temari jumped up as well, glaring at Kankuro’s broad grin. “You’ll tear it, you’re too _fat_ to fit in it!”

“Focus,” Baki tried again, in a softer, more resigned tone.

“Here I go!” Kankuro crowed, bolting from the kitchen. Temari launched over the table after him.

“ _Kankuro_!”

Gaara watched them leave, tilting his head at the sounds of pounding footsteps, then a loud, resounding thud, interspersed with rapid insults from both parties. He turned his attention back to his book, lips quirking up.

He could hear Temari and Kankuro still shouting at each other, in broken, breathless sentences as they laughed helplessly, still sounding as though they were beating each other senseless on their journey upstairs.

Baki sighed. “I swear, those two have gotten less mature since Konoha.”

“I like it,” Gaara said, turning his page and hearing uproarious laughter. “It makes this feel like a home.”

“A loud, and unfocused, home,” Baki shook his head.

Gaara was still smiling, even as he worked. “It’s the best this home has ever been.”

 

The world seemed brighter.

Everything was going well – Suna was doing better, successful missions were on the rise, the death rate for shinobi was steadily dropping. The children were being introduced to basic classes. Kankuro spent most of his time sorting things out within the village; Temari took on the role of going outside where needed. They had put together and trained a specific team for the caravan escort, and since then, supplies had been coming into the village regularly and predictably.

Temari was travelling, with trade agreements and treaties, watching the countries unfold before her.

She was getting exactly what she wanted - seeing the world. It was fascinating. She had even taken a ship to Kiri for a short meeting on exports, and been horribly seasick the entire time, but the beautiful views were worth it. The freedom was worth it.

When she was in Suna, she spent a lot of time in their growing Academy, teaching. It was surprisingly fun, and she never thought she would have the patience for teaching. But the end of the year passed, and students graduated, and she loved the feeling of pride that bloomed inside her.

It gave life meaning. It gave the village hope.

And Gaara was doing well, quietly soaking up everything he could, hounding her and Kankuro constantly with questions and suggestions. Baki, impressed by his dedication, and the positive feedback from the younger generations of shinobi, proposed that he be inaugurated as Kazekage sooner rather than later.

Temari didn’t think she had ever seen Gaara light up the way he did when Baki told them the news, and that he had set a date.

She spent most of the ceremony grinning like an idiot, and Kankuro didn’t look any more professional, his expression a mirror of hers. The Kazekage robes dwarfed Gaara, and he nearly shook under the weight of his own expectations of himself, but the village still cheered for him, and he glanced back at his siblings to check in, giving them his small, shy, unfamiliar smile when he saw them beaming back at him.

She hugged him afterwards, tighter than she ever had before, and he didn’t take long to relax in her embrace, and finally return the hug.

Once things settled again, Temari had the next set of Chuunin exams rapidly approaching, and assisted with the training of the three Genin teams registered to attend the exams. Once she was satisfied that they weren’t going to embarrass the village, she sent word to Konoha to expect her arrival in a week to finalize details.


	28. Defying Expectations

Shikamaru was waiting for her at the gates again, and she wondered if it was coincidence that it was always him as her guide, or if he’d asked for the mission. He was hard to read, but she figured if she really wanted to know she could just ask him, and he would most likely answer honestly.

She liked him being there – he was easy to work with, took orders remarkably well when he wasn’t mouthing off about them, and was quiet. She found herself enjoying the silence and calm he brought everywhere he went.

She was so used to her own life, with everything a whirlwind, that it was different and strange to have everything so still and serene.

He studied her. She noticed how he was constantly looking. At first, she assumed it was nervousness that made him keep his eye on her and analyse her every move. But the more she watched him back, the less nervous he seemed.

He was just . . . watching her. Studying her, as though she was the most fascinating thing in the world. She wondered what was going on in his head when he did it. She knew he was smart – terrifyingly so - so there must be a reason he didn’t take his eyes off her.

He looked as though he was trying to figure her out, trying to see something in her.

She wondered what he saw, when he looked at her, but she never pulled up the courage to ask.

They had finished work as normal, and she leant back in her seat, looking at him quizzically. “What’s the best place to get dinner?”

“Dunno.”

She rolled her eyes. “God, do you ever put effort into anything? Just answer the question.”

“I know a good place for barbeque,” he shrugged. “But it’s almost guaranteed to have someone I know there, so you’d need to socialize.”

“Do you think I don’t know how?”

“I think you don’t like people, and it’s troublesome taking you anywhere because I never know if you’re going to lose your temper and knock someone’s skull in with your fan.”

She arched an eyebrow. That was a fair enough assessment, she would admit. He’d fit right in with the Suna council – stodgy old men who complained endlessly yet never did anything. “Okay. I’ll leave the fan behind. Will that relax you?”

He smiled a bit, meeting her eyes. “Yeah, that’s a compromise.”

They walked the village together, and he wound her through a route she had never been before. There was a long vendors’ street, and she lagged a bit behind him, fascinated by the variety of foods on sale, several of which she couldn’t name.

There was an entire stall just for fruit. Just fruit.

She was studying them, seeing how many she could name, when three children barrelled past her, screaming loudly, followed by an irate looking man brandishing a pole.

Temari blinked. “What just happened?”

“The kids,” Shikamaru said, gesturing vaguely. “Steal the fruits off the trees. Gets the farmers all angry.”

“Hm.” Temari watched the children sprint down the street. She could hear them laughing. “You can just . . . grab fruit off a tree?”

“Never done it?”

“No. I’ve never really seen a fruit tree.”

Shikamaru looked at her oddly. She wondered if he was going to say anything. But he just shrugged again.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he looked away. She wished she knew what he was thinking. He occupied her thoughts more than she wanted to admit to. “You should try it sometime. It can be kinda fun.”

He didn’t add more, just continued walking, and she fell into step beside him.

 

“So,” he broke the silence first, the next day, as Temari was gathering the papers needed for the morning.

She flicked her eyes to him. As always, his gaze was already on her.

“You didn’t become Kazekage.”

“That’s old news.”

“Yeah.” Shikamaru shrugged. “But we hadn’t had a chance to talk about it before now.”

“I wasn’t aware that we needed to discuss it.”

He watched her. Shrewd eyes narrowed, taking in everything, figuring out the best plan. He always did. He had never made a statement that he wasn’t confident in. “Changed your mind?”

“It’s none of your business,” she replied sharply. “Gaara wanted the chance. That’s all. He needed it more than I did.”

Shikamaru studied her carefully. After the silence had gone on for far longer than was strictly comfortable, he asked, “You never really wanted it, did you?”

She couldn’t think up a snappy retort fast enough. Damn him and his genius – there wasn’t a single thing anyone could hide from him.

“Your father wanted it. You thought it was expected of you.” He seemed genuinely curious. “What made you change your mind?”

“Nothing.” She wouldn’t ever admit one of the reasons to him. Sure, the pull of being a diplomat and ambassador was strong and tempting, and she loved her job. She wasn’t suited to being closed in an office. She wanted more freedom than that.

But one reason, he would never know – because she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself.

It was expectation.

Because becoming Kazekage had been _expected_ of her. And she had never thought she had a choice beyond what was expected.

Until him.

Until that stupid Chuunin exam fight, where he had her pinned in his shadow, at his mercy, where she expected him to finish her, as any man would. She expected the loss, she expected a crushing defeat, she was fighting so hard to break free.

But he had let her go. Unlike anyone else in the world.

He had done the unexpected.

And she wouldn’t admit it, but that had caught her attention in more ways than one, and she suddenly saw the world just slightly differently. Suddenly, everything she knew wasn’t so clear cut anymore. Everything wasn’t as set in stone as she had believed. It was possible to make decisions that people didn’t expect.

To defy expectations, and be yourself, and do things your own way. To not live in someone else’s shadow.

She eyed him, wondering if he knew. If he knew he was different, if he knew he had changed everything for her. If he knew he was the one who gave her the courage to be who she wanted to be, rather than who everyone else wanted her to be.

For someone so shrouded in shadows, he had lit her world up more than she expected.

 

Gaara’s message reached her as she was preparing to leave Konoha. He was asking if she could stop at the daimyo’s Estate on the way home, to give a report on how Suna was doing, and what future plans were, and, if she was able to, convince the daimyo to fund some of the new projects.

The entire ordeal wouldn’t take her longer than a day, and, after a flippant farewell to Shikamaru, she was on her way, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her back as she walked away from Konoha.

The daimyo was expecting her, and she didn’t even need to wait on arrival to see him. Their meeting ran on for several hours, as Temari explained the Academy system in place, the regular Chuunin assessments with Konoha, the changes in trade routes. She dropped a few hints for future plans, and by the end of the meeting was feeling very satisfied with herself.

She left the daimyo’s chambers, following a guard as he led her through the many meandering passages of the mansion to the room she was using for the night. Once she had put her fan down, she wandered out into the gardens. It wasn’t often that she got to walk on grass, and she wanted to savour it.

She was standing still, looking idly at a cherry tree, when someone spoke softly behind her.

“You get more beautiful every time I see you.”

Temari turned around at the sound of his voice. “Laini. It’s been a while.”

His hair was cut shorter now, but the blue eyes were the same, smiling warmly at her. “To what do we owe the honour?”

“Just keeping relations good,” she answered smoothly. “It’s been suggested that I’m a better face of Suna than Kankuro is.”

“Well, your company is certainly preferable,” he kept smiling at her. “Are you staying long?”

“Just until the morning.”

“Then may I take you out to dinner tonight? If you’re not still ‘taking a break’ from men. I know somewhere with a lovely view, and not too many people. Food is decent, the company will hopefully be up to standard.”

She considered for a moment. It wasn’t a bad idea, and she liked spending time with him. It would be nice to unwind. “Sounds good.”

His smile softened then, and his gentle blue eyes almost lit up. It excited her, seeing someone actually interested in her for who she was, not for what she could do, what she could give. Just her.

Dinner was pleasant, and the moon was full, and she made him dance with her. They were always too close, too in each other’s space; it seemed inevitable when they were together. She liked how his hand felt on her hip, how he smiled at her. She liked the closeness and the warmth of him, and she realized she missed being near people who weren’t trying to kill her.

She kissed him first this time, with her hands in his hair and his hands on her hips, and neither of them caring if anyone saw. She liked the feeling that bloomed low in her belly and she wanted to chase it further. She wanted so much more.

“Better than last time,” he said eventually, when she let him pull back enough to speak.

“Last time I was thirteen,” she scoffed, “And didn’t exactly know what I was doing.”

“Hm,” he looked at her searchingly. “Do you know what you’re doing now?”

Her eyes flicked to his mouth, then back up to his eyes. They were pulled tight against each other, long since having stopped dancing. She met his blue gaze boldly. “I know I’m not thirteen anymore.”

 

Later in the night, she lay amongst cool sheets, watching the moon through the window, with nothing on her but Laini’s arm draped warmly over her waist. She wondered if he was still awake. The open curtains moved gently with the breeze.

She craned her head back, looking over her shoulder, and she found him looking at her, eyes inky black in the dark room.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Just thinking.” She rolled over to face him, shifting a bit closer, a sheet wrapping around her leg. Her skin felt damp. Not desert-damp, with its sweltering heat. This was more pleasant.

He moved his arm to slide up her back, hand spanning her shoulder blade, another point of warmth. His eyes closed. “You should stay.”

“Gaara and Kankuro expect me back in the morning. I can’t stay another day.”

“I didn’t mean another day.” He looked at her again. “I meant forever. Stay here with me.”

She shook her head slowly.

“Why not? Politically it makes perfect sense. It guarantees Suna’s stable future. And personally, well, life here is so much better for you. You wouldn’t be risking your life every day on missions. You wouldn’t ever have to struggle for resources again. I’d give you anything you wanted.”

“I wouldn’t want to be tied down,” she shrugged, feeling his hand move lightly on her back. His fingers touched briefly on her scar. “I love my job; travelling all the time. Being Konoha’s primary ambassador is exciting. And Suna needs me more; I couldn’t leave. And it’s too closed in here. There isn’t enough going on – you hardly ever leave this Estate. I can’t do that.”

He smiled at her, a small, slightly sad smile. “I see. And nothing would convince you otherwise?”

“Not at the moment. Maybe, in a few years. Maybe when . . .” She trailed off. “Maybe, when Suna is more settled and my brothers don’t need me as much. But I won’t make any promises.”

He looked searchingly at her. “Is there someone else?”

“No, there . . . isn’t . . .” She trailed off, questioning herself. There wasn’t, really. There was just . . . “No,” she said, more firmly. “There isn’t.”

But he was in her mind now, with that smug, lazy smirk and his slouched shoulders. She shook her head. “There’s no one else.”

How could there be? Something Rasa had said to her, so many years ago, always sat in the back of her mind; _There is not a man on earth who won’t take advantage of you if you let them._

Laini was no different. He was gentle about it, and nice, and refined, but he was still a man like any other, and Rasa was right. There was a lot Laini could gain from Temari staying at his side. It seemed a pity, since she genuinely liked him. But pride and fear and stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to let down her guard and be vulnerable. She was Rasa’s child, and Rasa’s child wouldn’t let someone take care of them and give them what they wanted.

She took care of herself, she gained what she wanted herself, with no one’s help and no one at her side.

She sighed, snuggling in closer to Laini’s bare chest. She would enjoy it for now, the warmth and intimacy, and then tomorrow she would be on her way, as a powerful, indomitable warrior once more.

He kissed her forehead softly, and let them fall back into silence.

 

She got up first in the morning, disentangling herself from loose, light sheets and limbs that weren’t hers, and picking her clothes up off the floor.

Laini rolled over when she was half dressed, saying in a sleepy voice, “Are you leaving already?”

“I need to get going before it gets too hot. I don’t want to try cross the desert at midday.” She glanced back at him, adjusting her kimono.

“Stay for the day. You can leave tonight.”

“Gaara and Kankuro need me home.”

“Hm, you’re so difficult,” he breathed, stretching leisurely.

She smirked. “Yes, I am.”

She finished dressing, and wrangled her hair into something more presentable than the tangles it had become overnight, then turned to face him. “Thank you for last night.”

“Any time.” He sat up, beckoning her closer.

She stepped up to him with a soft smile, letting her arms rest on his shoulders, looking down at him. “What now?”

“At least let me say a proper goodbye.”

“What did you have in mind? I just got dressed again, so your options are limited.” She curled her fingers in his hair.

“Well, usually, we have a leisurely breakfast outside in the gardens.”

“Usually?” Temari arched an eyebrow. “How many other girls have you dragged into bed with you?”

“Dragged?” he sounded mildly offended. “Invited.”

“How many other girls have you _invited_ into bed with you,” she rolled her eyes.

“There have been a few,” he admitted. “But none as interesting as you.”

“I’m going to have to break your tradition; I really do need to get going.”

He stood up, running his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, to cup her face and kiss her deeply.

Temari pulled back with a smile. “That’ll have to do for now.”

“If you pass this way again,” Laini said, twirling a finger in her wild hair. “Stop by and say hello.”

“Sure,” she said, with a sharp smirk. “If you _invite_ me.”

 

She made three more visits to Konoha in rapid succession, dividing her time between observing their Academy further and helping plan the joint Chuunin exams. On the way home from the final visit, she stopped at Laini again to spend the night, and most of the morning, and then an extra night, before returning home.

Kankuro and Gaara were both lounging on her bed when she returned.

“You have your own bedrooms?” she questioned, throwing her fan at Kankuro, who scrambled to knock it aside.

“Yeah, but I got bored of waiting,” Kankuro said, folding his hands behind his head.

Gaara sat up, watching Temari as she pulled her hair loose. “How was your trip?”

“ _Very_ nice.”

Kankuro snorted. “Stopped off at Laini again, did you?”

She threw him a sharp smile. “So what if I did?”

“At least it puts you in a good mood,” Kankuro shrugged, and Gaara just looked confused.

“What does?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Temari said, gathering clothes. “I’m taking a shower.”

“We’ll be waiting here,” Kankuro said, settling more comfortably on her bed.

“Why is she in a good mood?” Gaara asked again, once it was just him and Kankuro in the room. “Isn’t she always after going to Konoha?”

“Yep, that must be it,” Kankuro nodded. “Konoha. Puts everyone in a great mood.”

Gaara didn’t look convinced, but he let the subject drop.

They both shot up at the sound of the bathroom door slamming into the wall.

“Alright,” Temari stormed into her room, wrapped in a towel and her hair dripping wet. “Which of you two uses my body wash?”

Kankuro instantly pointed at Gaara, who looked somewhat startled at the accusation. He lowered his head, muttering, “It smells nice . . .”

“Do you know how expensive it is? I only ever get it when I’ve gone through the River Country, and even then it’s near impossible to find. It’s from some stupid tiny island no one ever goes to. Laini gave me the last bottle; don’t use it up, it’s _mine_!” She growled. “Between you and Kankuro I never get to have nice things to myself!”

“This,” Kankuro said, patting Gaara’s shoulder, “Is what you were missing when Dad was keeping us apart. Isn’t it _so much better_ being a family?”

“I’m sorry?” Gaara tried, looking earnestly at his sister. “I didn’t know it was important.”

She let out a loud breath. “It’s fine. It’s you. You’re off the hook. If it was Kankuro,” she glared at him, “I’d kick your ass.”

“Why does Gaara get special treatment?” Kankuro protested. “That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair!” she snapped back. “Now don’t cause any more trouble until I’m done!”

She spun on her heel and left the room with a flick of her head that sent sharp drops of water flying at both brothers. Gaara flinched at the unwelcomed assault, but Kankuro just shrugged. “Normal day, Gaara. You’ll get used to her.”


	29. The Proposal

Temari was reporting to Gaara’s office, having just returned from Konoha from another set of Chuunin exams. They went even smoother this time; she and Shikamaru had settled into something akin to resigned teamwork, and while he was still cantankerous and grumpy, she was enjoying working with him.

And she loved how he was constantly watching her, wary and aware of her presence. She loved how he kept a shadow between them at all times, as though he needed the safety net when talking to her.

“I’m glad it went well,” Gaara said, expression relieved. “The regular exams are helping Suna. We’ve had a much higher success rate in missions since we started collaborating with Konoha.”

Temari grinned. “Yeah, it’s been great.”

She stretched her arms above her head, ready to settle down and rest for the afternoon. “If you don’t need me, I’ll go home.”

“Lazy,” Kankuro yawned from the other side of the office, lounged on the couch.

Temari would have thrown something at him if she had anything on hand that wasn’t a deadly weapon.

“There’s a letter for you,” Gaara said, indicating to an envelope on the edge of his desk.

Temari snatched it up, looking at it curiously. The lettering was polished and professional, and she didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. “Why is Laini writing to me?”

“I didn’t open it,” Gaara said reasonably. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“What kind of damages did you do when you were there last?” Kankuro asked, spreading himself leisurely across the entire couch. He did not move over when Temari approached, and, not one to give in to his silent attempt at dominance, she sat on him.

“I didn’t damage anything,” she responded mildly, tearing the envelope open and flicking the torn end at Kankuro’s face.

He huffed, squirming under her in an attempt to be the most uncomfortable seat in the world. He may have succeeded, but Temari was too stunned by the letter to pay him much attention.

“Oh,” she said, when she had read it.

Gaara looked up again at her tone of voice. “Oh?”

Kankuro became still. “Tem? You look surprised.”

“He’s just . . . his father is insisting he get married soon, and he . . . asked if I’ll marry him . . .”

Kankuro sat up so fast Temari almost didn’t catch herself in time. “What?”

Gaara straightened behind his desk, eyes locking onto his sister.

“He’s what?” Kankuro repeated, looking stunned. “Is he stupid, or just that desperate?”

“Hey,” Temari growled.

“I mean . . .”

“It’s a smart move,” Gaara said quietly, causing his siblings’ heads to snap towards him. He shrugged, “It would guarantee the daimyo’s cooperation in further plans for Suna. There’d be more positions for bodyguards, so Suna would benefit as well from an increase in jobs. You’d be protected and safe, all the time . . .”

Temari stood up abruptly, eying the letter. She didn’t add anything, just left the room with swift steps.

Gaara watched her leave, asking Kankuro softly, “Was I wrong?”

“No, that all sounds correct.” Kankuro stood as well. “I’m going after her.”

Gaara looked worried.

“She’s not upset with you,” Kankuro assured. “She’s just . . . I dunno. I’ll ask.” He closed the office door quietly, meandering home in no hurry.

Temari would need time to cool off and process everything. Kankuro didn’t want to interrupt her too soon into her thinking phase. He lingered outside the house for a few minutes, before plodding to her room.

She was lying on her bed, staring upwards, the letter still clutched in her hands.

“Tem?” Kankuro entered her room. “You okay?”

“I dunno.” She pushed her bangs back, sighing at the ceiling.

Kankuro came to lay next to her, as they often did, shoulder to shoulder. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking it’s the right thing for Suna and the village’s future.”

“It does make sense,” Kankuro added cautiously. “Politically, and . . . Well, it makes sense.”

“Of course it make sense,” Temari said wearily, rubbing a hand across her eyes. “It makes so much sense.”

“You gonna . . . you gonna do it?” Kankuro asked, shifting uneasily.

“I don’t . . . know . . . yet . . .”

They both looked towards the door when Gaara rapped softly on it, entering and approaching the bed. He cleared his throat, and began, rather awkwardly.

“I know snuggling is your thing,” Gaara said, with a half-shrug. “But . . . Can I join your discussion?”

“Come on,” Temari shifted a bit closer to Kankuro, making space next to her. “Of course you can.”

Hesitantly, Gaara lay down, hands folded neatly on his stomach.

“Temari,” he said, after a pause. “I don’t want you to think I was trying to pressure you into saying yes to him.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“Because I’m not. I want you to make your own decisions. I want you to be happy. If it’s with him, then I’ll accept that. If it’s not with him, then that’s fine too.”

Temari glanced sideways at him, smiling fondly. “Thank you, Gaara.”

He returned the smile, soft and sweet.

Kankuro made a considering noise, then asked, “Do you like him?”

“Yes, I like him,” Temari let out a loud breath. “I like him a lot. But I’m not in love with him. Look, I know marrying for love was never going to be an option for me, but I kinda hoped it might be . . .”

“And you’ve slept with him,” Kankuro added casually, and Temari felt Gaara tense at her side.

She rolled her eyes, “Calm down, Gaara, it wasn’t a big deal. It was just a onetime thing-“

“Six times,” Kankuro interrupted.

“I’m never telling you anything, ever again!”

“But you like Shikamaru,” Gaara murmured.

“I don’t!” she defended instantly.

“You talk about him a lot,” Gaara observed. “You don’t talk about anyone else like that. And he talks about you.”

Temari stared at him, and even Kankuro raised himself up on one elbow to stare at his brother.

Gaara coloured slightly under their scrutiny. “Naruto says he does. He says he never stops talking about you once you’ve left Konoha.”

“Talking, or complaining?” Temari asked. “Because it’s Shikamaru, so those are largely the same to him.”

“Either way, you like him.”

Temari snorted, feeling the need to defend herself. “Shikamaru’s just a kid. Okay? He’s just an annoying kid, he doesn’t mean anything, and he wouldn’t be any good anyway-“

Gaara sat up, narrow eyes on Temari. He studied her for a moment. “You like him.”

She wasn’t going to admit it, but she did. She really did. She liked the way he watched her carefully and sideways. She liked how he never got ruffled by anyone. She liked how he could figure anything out – even her, if he just watched and noticed and stayed patient. Talking to him was a constant challenge, and he never rose to a fight, just backed off, let her take the lead, didn’t challenge her.

It made her feel safe. Knowing she could stay constantly in control, knowing she could take the lead with everything, knowing he would have a plan if she needed but would leave her to make her own decisions as well. He was there, he was dependable, but he didn’t demand, he didn’t attempt to dominate her, he didn’t try to force anything on her.

He was different from so many other men.

“He’s a kid,” she repeated, because she had said it to herself so many times. She said it to herself the last time she was with Laini, she said it the last time she had been in Konoha, the last time the desert night had been just a bit too hot and she had thrown off her covers and clothes and watched the moonlight play shadows on her skin.

Gaara just stared at her, as though he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. She hoped he hadn’t added mind reading to his repertoire, as he might be scarred forever if he knew exactly what she thought about Shikamaru.

She looked away from him. “What do you think? About . . . about leaving here to marry Laini?”

“As Kazekage, I imagine it would be very beneficial to the village.” Gaara looked pensive. “But . . . as your brother, I wouldn’t want to see you leave. And certainly not if I felt you wouldn’t be completely happy.”

“We only want what you want,” Kankuro added. “No pressure to decide one way or the other. Just do whichever makes you happiest.”

“Father probably would have forced you,” Gaara mused. “But I’m . . . not like that . . .?” He trailed off, looking uncertain.

“No, you’re not like that,” Temari assured. “You’re not like Dad at all.”

Gaara’s expression softened.

“I’m going to go to the Estate,” Temari said. “And speak to Laini directly.”

“What will you tell him?” Kankuro asked.

She sighed, tipping her head to rest it firmly against Kankuro’s shoulder. “That my brothers come first. And I can’t imagine finding someone more important than them.”

 

She wasn’t nervous, but there was a trace of guilt in her as she waited patiently within the daimyo’s mansion for Laini to come and see her. It wasn’t guilt at saying ‘no’, because she wasn’t one to sacrifice herself for someone else. She put herself first, she made choices that benefited her life, and she didn’t bow down to anyone.

The guilt was because she had a choice, and she knew Laini didn’t. She could say ‘no’, and go about her life, but he would have to find someone to spend the rest of his life with. He didn’t get to choose his own future, but she could. It wasn’t fair, but that was life.

She studied a painting on the wall, trying to get her mind off what she was there to do. She intended to just speak to him and leave, not to drag anything out. One quick conversation was all it would take, and then life would go back to normal.

“Temari,” his voice was warm, and she turned to face him, expression carefully neutral.

“Hello, Laini. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s always good to see you.” He took a step towards her, blue eyes alight. When he noticed she did not return the smile, his faded slightly. “I assume you’ve considered my proposal?”

“Do you want my answer now or later?” she asked.

Laini sighed. “Later. I’m pretty sure I know what it is.”

“I’m sorry,” she said genuinely.

“Don’t apologize. You’re just trying to be happy. I can respect that.” He looked at her sadly.

“Did you ask anyone else?” she enquired.

“No. My father said I could ask whoever I wanted, and if I couldn’t find someone on my own, he would sort out an arranged marriage for me. You were the only person I could think of who seemed worth it.” He shrugged helplessly. “I felt I had to try. I didn’t expect you to say yes.”

“Would you like me to leave?” Temari asked.

“No. Spend the night?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked. “With everything going on, and . . .?”

“One last time,” he said. “Please. No strings attached, just one last night together.” He placed his hands on her upper arms, thumbs swirling gentle patterns against her sleeves. His expression was hopeful. “I won’t get to make too many choices in my life from now on. They’ll all be decided for me. So, if you wouldn’t mind, would you be the last thing I choose for myself?”

She looked into his eyes. The colour of evening sky, waiting for an answer.

She could give him that much. “Of course.”

 

He was gentle and patient, and for once Temari didn’t demand anything. It was counter-instinctual, but at the same time it felt good to just let him take the lead. He seemed happy, and she was pleased with that.

When the moon rose higher in the sky, she watched clouds drift lazily past, his arm across her waist and her back pulled to his chest. His skin was warm, and his fingers made swirls on her lower belly. Every now and again, she pushed his hand lower, unable to fully suppress the urge to demand and dominate.

She watched a cloud cover the moon and throw a shadow over her body, and with a small huff she pulled his hand away from her, thoughts distracted.

He didn’t protest, just hummed gently, his chest vibrating against her back.

“What?” she asked.

The cloud moved on, and moonlight spilled over her once again, and her tense body relaxed a fraction.

“If,” he murmured, “you do get married one day, send me an invite. I’d like to see who you end up with.” He snuffled her hair, pulling her close.

“I will.” She traced absent patterns on his forearm.

“Whoever he is,” Laini kissed the back of her neck softly. “He’ll be very lucky.”

She rolled onto her stomach, propped up on both elbows, to watch him quizzically. “Who does your father want you to marry?”

“Uzuri was his first choice. She refused.”

“Lucky you.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” His smile was rueful, tinged with regret and longing. He ran his hand down her spine, fingers resting over the scar across her back. “I don’t know who I’ll end up with.”

“I hope you can find a way to be happy.” She genuinely meant it. He was a good man; he didn’t deserve to spend the rest of his life living in regret.

“I do too.” He slid his hand up her back again, brushing some hair behind her ear. “What is it that you see in the shadows?”

“What?”

“You watch them when they move.”

“My father taught me to keep away from them. It was safer that way.”

“What do you see hiding in them?”

Danger. Danger lurked in shadows, danger and fear and things that wanted to tear her down.

_Not all shadows,_ her mind supplied, and she shook the thought away.

“Nothing,” she replied eventually. “There’s nothing important in the shadows.”

 

She ended up staying longer than anticipated, spending a few days just hanging out, lounging around the mansion and following Laini around as he worked. It told her enough – that she would never manage tied down to one place.

She needed to be free, needed to go wherever life took her. She needed to see the world, to experience everything she could.

They said goodbye in the gardens, with Temari’s arms around Laini’s neck, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him, and he wished her good luck with the future. She left for Suna, knowing he was watching her, but she didn’t feel the need to look back.

She kept her eyes forward, focused on her home slowly becoming visible in the distance. That was all she needed for needed for now.

 

Things were quiet for a while.

Temari and Kankuro had been systemically putting things in place to improve the shinobi system in Suna, and between the two of them had things settled into a smooth rhythm. The council had backed off, focusing most of their energies on bothering Gaara about the way he was running the village.

It made for several long, tedious meetings where Gaara demonstrated himself to be the most diplomatic of the three siblings, to everyone’s surprise. He stayed remarkably calm, no matter what the situation, and even the council started begrudgingly giving in to his ideals.

Gaara called Temari into his office one afternoon, and she smothered a yawned as she stood before him. She had spent the night before up late with Kankuro (Not drinking, if Gaara asked, just bonding over private jokes and too much food) and had slept in late for the first time in years.

Kankuro had still been snoring when she finally got up.

“Temari,” Gaara said, not looking up from a message that had arrived earlier that day. “I need you to go to Konoha again. Not for anything too important, just to see if they need help with anything.”

“Why?” She wasn’t objecting; she enjoyed her visits there. But it was unusual for Gaara to send her ‘just because’.

“They had a little trouble with Akatsuki a few weeks ago,” Gaara admitted. “I just want you to check if they need help at all. With manpower, or anything else.”

“Is Naruto okay?” she asked.

“He seemed fine. Tsunade did mention that Sarutobi Asuma was killed in action, though. He was an important person in the village; I’m concerned they might be struggling to complete missions without him.”

“Sarutobi Asuma?” The name was familiar. Temari knew it from somewhere.

“I think he was the sensei for Shikamaru’s team,” Gaara sounded uncertain.

_Yes_ , her mind provided. That’s why she knew the name – Shikamaru adored his sensei, admired him reverently. She felt a slight twinge of worry. Was Shikamaru coping okay? He wasn’t exactly the typical shinobi when it came to emotions. “I can leave today.”

Gaara nodded. “Be safe. I’ll let them know you’re on your way. Someone will be waiting.”

But, she wondered, would it be the someone she wanted?

 

Temari wasn’t prepared for Shikamaru. She was not prepared for how _changed_ he looked.

They hadn’t seen each other in six months, and he had suddenly grown up.

She had to stop, blinking, to stare at him as she approached the village. Because surely that wasn’t the boy she had left half a year ago? Surely that wasn’t him – with a cigarette between his lips and shoulders slouched as he leaned against the gate. That couldn’t be him, all lanky tall with long limbs and shoulders that had somehow gotten broader.

In the span of six months, Shikamaru had grown up.

She had to look up at him now. For some reason, seeing him looking so mature and together sent a thrill that she didn’t understand through her body. As though now he was her equal – no longer a snot-nosed bratty boy.

He finally noticed her, lifting his head a fraction in acknowledgement, and the motion drew Temari’s attention to the angle of his jaw.

_Where the fuck had the crybaby gone?_ She thought dazedly.

“Fun journey?” he asked as she got within earshot. He blew a thin ribbon of smoke out the side of his mouth.

“Those things will kill you,” she answered, brushing past him.

He fell into step beside her. “There are worse things to die of.”

“I heard about your sensei.”

Shikamaru stopped, and she turned to look back at him. He looked guarded, watching her carefully to see what she would say next.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply. “That must have been hard.”

He said nothing. His expression was carefully blank. Far more mature than she was used to, and he looked so much older. It made her stomach curl in a new and interesting way. He wasn’t a baby anymore. Far from it, the Shikamaru that stood before her now – wary and closed off – was a man.

She shrugged, turning away from him to continue walking. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you.” She wanted to add ‘we can talk if you want to’, but for some reason the words stuck in her throat. She wanted to offer more, but some part of her stopped.

Shikamaru made no sound of acknowledgement as they walked. It was only when they reached the embassy building that he muttered, so quietly she almost missed it, “Thanks.”

She chose not to let him know she had heard.

“If you’re not doing anything later,” he said, a bit more boldly – _bold_ , from _Shikamaru_ , how much had he changed? – “I know a nice place for dinner.”

He was staring at the floor, hands firmly in his pockets, jaw skewed slightly to one side and tense. She studied him, from his smoky dark eyes to his shoulders that were wider than hers now. He was waiting for her answer, feigning nonchalance, but she could see the nervous anticipation that thrummed through him.

She grinned, excited to find out what else New Shikamaru had planned. “Sure.”


	30. Hidden in the Leaves

It was ridiculously, stupidly easy to fall for Shikamaru, and that pissed her off.

It was mostly because she knew he was genuine – there was no façade he hid behind, no show put on just for her. That would take too much effort, and Shikamaru was exactly what he seemed like. Lazy, laid-back, somewhat snarky. She never had to worry about an ulterior motive when they spoke and interacted, she never had to worry that he was hiding something.

She had known a lot of men in her time, and none had been the same as he was. None caught her attention like he did. And so visits to Konoha started gradually changing – they weren’t just for business anymore, and work wasn’t her only focus while she was there.

By some mutual agreement that neither of them voiced, when she was visiting Konoha they took their time to do other things. Once they spent an entire day wandering the village and visiting every dango place they passed. Once they ordered take out and stayed in her apartment and talked until the sun started coming up the next morning. Once he braced himself for the endless teasing, and took her to dinner with his team. (Temari liked his friends – Ino was fun and witty, and Chouji was a genuinely nice guy. It must have been nice, she thought, to grow up with people that like around.)

Throughout all of it, Shikamaru and Temari kept a careful distance. They never touched each other.

She didn’t know if he was counting, but she was, and they had gone to dinner – just the two of them – twelve times now. And he’d stayed the night once – on the couch, snoring off half a bottle of sake but it had taken all her self-control to leave him there and not storm out in the middle of the night, grab him by the front of his shirt and haul him into bed with her.

Hormones were a bitch, and Temari was tired of ignoring them. She was tired of pretending not to notice that his eyes drifted to her when they were close. She was tired of maintaining a careful distance when they walked. She wanted more – more from him, more from herself, more from her life, and she wasn’t one to back away and let things go when she wanted them.

He was clearly willing, she was willing, and she was going to take this, just like she took every opportunity.

Because she wasn’t one to stand by waiting, she wasn’t going to hope and not do something about it.

And maybe she should have thought it through a bit better, but being reckless had worked so far, and Shikamaru was smart, he would catch up eventually.

She grabbed him at one point in the Hokage building, yanking him into a nearby empty room and slamming the door closed with his back. Shikamaru’s head hit the door, but he said nothing, just staring at her with wide, confused eyes. “Uh-“

“We should start dating,” she said boldly.

“Uh-“

“Because we like each other. A lot. And it makes sense, it just does.”

By then, Shikamaru had recovered his senses. He relaxed a fraction. “It doesn’t make sense at all. In fact, it’d be really troublesome. Think of the distance. Think of who you are and who I am. Think of how little we see each other, and even when we do its mostly for work and there’s very little time for us. The odds of it ever working out – and how that’s defined is a whole other set of problems – are very, very low.”

She stared at him, tightening her grip on the front of his vest. “So that’s it? That’s your take on the matter? ‘Don’t bother because the distance is too hard’?” There was a coil of anger growing in her stomach. She resisted the urge to punch him, but it was a near thing.

“I was just pointing out that it didn’t make sense,” he said calmly. “You get ahead of yourself.”

“And you’re a lazy bastard,” she snapped. “Fine, forget it, then. If you can’t be bothered-“ She released her grip on him, only to have him catch one wrist gently and keep her close.

“I didn’t say no,” he replied levelly. “I said it was going to be troublesome.”

She yanked her arm back, twisting out of his hold. “So, what is that supposed to mean?”

Shikamaru sighed. “You never listen, you troublesome . . . It means – let’s try. Let’s give it a go and see what happens.”

“Give it a go and see what happens?” she mocked. “That’s your idea of a ‘yes’? That’s how you want to start relationship?”

He gave a helpless looking shrug. “Well . . . how else would you start one? Because I don’t think hitting someone against a door is any better.”

Just for good measure, she grabbed his vest again, pulling him a bit towards her before slamming him back against the door.

He accepted the abuse without protest, giving her his irritating, smug half-grin.

She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, and since slapping him senseless was out of the question, she tried another route, and yanked him towards her, plastering her mouth over his. He gave the most satisfying squeak of surprise, and she pulled back to study his expression.

She didn’t think she had ever seen him look so lost. Shikamaru could think his way out of anything, but she seemed to have stumped him.

After a few seconds of being shocked, Shikamaru’s mind started working again, and he said, cautiously, “. . . You just stole my first kiss.”

“I didn’t steal it,” she scoffed. “Wait,” she said, smugness changing to curiosity, “You’ve never kissed someone before?”

“I _hadn’t_.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure why, but that sparked a low coil of heat in her stomach. He was all hers. He would always be all hers. She would be his first everything. He belonged to her, and her alone. She pushed herself against him again, catching his muffled yelp of surprise in her mouth.

He was adorable, really, with his cheeks burning red, rendered speechless.

She grinned at him. “What? Didn’t plan for that?”

“Didn’t plan for you,” he grumbled, tension deflating slightly. “We have work to do, you know.”

He escaped from where she had pinned him, ducking his head down to keep his expression away from her. It might have worked when he was twelve, but he was taller than her now, and he couldn’t hide a damn thing from her.

She stayed at his side, delighting in how uncomfortable he looked. He stayed carefully quiet for the rest of the morning, strategically keeping a table between them as they sat down to work.

She allowed him the silence, letting him settle down again into his usual calmness.

When she had finished work, however, she decided it was time to throw him off balance again.

“Take me out,” she said suddenly.

He lifted his head.

“Take me somewhere nice,” she said, looking out the window. “Somewhere I haven’t been before.”

“There’s a lot of places you haven’t been. That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

She rolled her eyes. “Take me somewhere I wouldn’t think of going. Take me somewhere that surprises me. Do something romantic.”

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t know how.”

“Well, think about it. You’re smart. You should be able to figure something out.” She pouted at him, and his lips twitched up into a smile. “After lunch. That’s how long you have to figure something out.”

“Why the deadline?”

“Because I said so.”

“You’re very troublesome.” He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly as he planned.

Temari watched him, interested. He stayed completely still for about two minutes, then shrugged, as though he had reached a mental conclusion.

He sighed, taking her hand. “Fine, come with me.”

“What are you . . .?” She snatched her arm back. “Why?”

“Just,” he shook his head. “Just trust me. You’ll like it.”

She allowed herself to be led, over rooftops, across the village, until they were near the border wall. Then, Shikamaru stopped, cheeks burning faintly pink. “Uh . . . can you close your eyes?”

“Can I _what_?”

“Just . . . I don’t want you to see where we’re going.”

She stared at him, suspicion rising. He met her eyes for a few seconds before looking away, obviously uncomfortable with her glare. “If you do anything . . .”

“I won’t do anything,” he said softly. “And if . . . You can look, if it’s scaring you.”

“I’m not scared,” she snapped.

“Okay,” he took a step back, self-preservation instincts kicking in. “You’re not scared. Will you close your eyes?”

“Fine. But this better be worth it.” She huffed out an annoyed breath, and closed her eyes.

Tentatively, Shikamaru took her hand, and pulled her along with rhythmical, predictable steps. They hadn’t gone far, by her estimation, when she felt him stop and let her hand go.

“Okay,” he said, “Open your eyes.”

Peeping carefully at first, Temari noticed trees. Not a huge surprise there; they were in a forest. Except, when she blinked and looked around, the trees were planted into neat rows. Fruit trees. “What is this?”

“It’s an orchard.” Shikamaru shifted uncomfortably. “You know. Because you said once . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck, trailing off uncertainly.

She stared at him.

Shikamaru shifted again, uncertain of her lack of response. “We can leave if you want, but I thought you might like to . . .” He stopped when she stepped towards him, instinctively flinching. But she didn’t attack. She came up to him, expression unreadable, and leant her face into his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around him, and held tight.

Cautiously, he held her back, still slightly uncertain about how things were going to work out. She was unpredictable, and prone to lash out for seemingly no reason.

“You’re sweet when you want to be,” she mumbled against his shoulder, and Shikamaru relaxed, relatively secure that she wouldn’t murder him on the spot. She straightened up, giving him a soft, genuine smile, which made his heart race unexpectedly.

He turned away. “No, I’m not . . .”

She pulled him back to her, surprising him with a hard kiss. It froze him in place, and she studied the orchard around them while his brain buffered. Most of the fruit grew high, out of reach from the ground. She eyed an apple tree, judging the distance, before whirling to face Shikamaru.

“Lift me up,” she demanded.

“You’re kidding, right? You have how many weapons on you and you control the wind, why should I lift you up?”

“Because I want you to.”

Shikamaru made a face, halfway between perplexed and uncomfortable.

“No one’s looking, idiot,” she said, making a sweeping gesture with one hand to prove her point. “And even if they were, would it matter?”

He groaned softly under his breath. “Do I have to?”

“I don’t really give people choices. I just tell them what to do.”

“Troublesome,” he said with a loud sigh. He hesitated, clearly uncertain, before seeming to gather up his courage and step towards her. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know?”

“So I’ve been told.” She grinned at him.

He nodded agreeably, stepping behind her to place his hands on her hips. He hoisted her up, surprising her slightly with the ease with which he could – he was stronger than she had thought. She didn’t dwell on it, instead reaching up to pluck an apple off the tree. She half expected him to drop her, but maybe that was because she knew Kankuro would have, but Shikamaru lowered her gently back to the ground.

He didn’t let go of her. He kept his hands resting on her hips, and she could feel him lean his forehead against her hair. She wondered what he was thinking. She didn’t ask him, though. She turned the apple around in her hands, wonderingly.

Life was so different here. It was easy and soft. The whole village was friendly and welcoming. She didn’t feel like she had to check over her shoulder. But if she did check, there was Shikamaru, now staring at the sky and watching the clouds drift overhead. It wouldn’t hurt to take advantage of the peace for a while. To let herself forget her usual responsibilities and thoughts.

“Wanna go watch clouds?” Shikamaru asked, not looking at her. “I know a good spot.”

“Before that,” Temari turned around in his arms. “Tell me what all these trees are.”

“That’s an apple tree.”

She barely resisted the urge to throw the fruit in her hand at his face. “I know that, you dumbass. The _others_.”

“Well, that one next to it is an apple-“

She cut him off with a roll of her eyes and a hand behind his neck, dragging his face down to hers. He always shut up when she kissed him. She thought she might be overloading his brain, because it took him a few seconds afterwards before he could form words again.

After a carefully considered silence, Shikamaru said softly. “A warning might be nice.”

“You’re smart. You should see it coming. Now,” Temari entwined their hands. “What kind of trees are these?”

“The one on the left is an app-“

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is up to where I have actually planned this story. I've got about 30k words of unedited, un-linked, jumbled rambling scenes that I have to somehow put together into a coherent story to get to where I want to be. Work is going to get hectic now, and I'm not sure how much time I will have for this so updates will go off a regular schedule from now, because contrary to popular belief I do have a life and don't just whack at my laptop keyboard for eight hours a day.
> 
> Anyway, we are now winging it. Until the end. Because I know how I want it to end. Let's see where this takes us. (But I will finish it - I don't leave things unfinished. Just not sure when I'll finish it.)  
> Thanks for sticking with it so far, it's appreciated.


	31. Making Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author bluffs her way through fanfic like she actually has a plan and isn't just drinking tea and hoping for the best . . .

She was still on a happy high by the time she pranced back into Suna, ridiculously pleased at how things were going. Shikamaru was pliant and submissive, and she loved that there was no need for any sort of power play. She could take what she wanted and he didn’t resist much. (There was a lot of complaining, but he mostly gave in to her. It made her feel good. Like she mattered. She wasn’t used to men not arguing with her on every single thing.)

“What did you do to put you in such a good mood?” Kankuro caught her in the kitchen where she had been hunting a snack. She came up disappointingly empty handed, making a mental note to go out and buy something nice tomorrow. “Can’t have fucked Laini, he’s married. Wait. Did you?”

“No,” Temari replied airily, leaving the kitchen.

“Why so happy?” Kankuro asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. Things are going well in Konoha, that’s all.”

“When you say ‘well’,” Kankuro followed her. “What do you mean?”

“What?” Temari spun to face him.

“You know. You just seem in a better mood when you come home.” Kankuro eyed her. “What’re you hiding?”

Temari glanced around, as though someone was listening. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay?”

She crept closer to him, leaning in to whisper, “I’m kinda dating Shikamaru.”

“You’re fucking a kid?” Kankuro blurted out, and Temari reflexively slapped his arm.

“No, I’m _not_ ,” she hissed. “Come on, what do you think I am? The lazy ass is fifteen or sixteen, I can’t remember, and a dork. He’s a long way off from that.”

“Sorry, I must have imagined it then when you were sixteen and came prancing back from the daimyo’s Estate squawking something about fucking Laini.”

“I do not squawk! Stop being a dick, can’t you see I’m happy?” She huffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? The council will have a fit, and Gaara will just ask too many questions.”

“Okay,” Kankuro frowned. “Should you really be messing around with a kid in Konoha, though? I mean, it can’t be serious. You guys live too far away. It’s not gonna work out.”

“So? Even if it doesn’t, that’s no reason not to. Can’t I have fun?”

“At the shadow kid’s expense? Whatever does it for you, I guess.” Kankuro made a humming noise under his breath. “Is he any good for you?”

“Probably not,” she replied flippantly. “And I’m only going back there in about five months, so maybe things will have changed by then.” She hoped things wouldn’t have changed, but she didn’t want to sound like she cared.

“He’s . . .” she trailed off, suddenly hesitant. “He’s everything Dad warned me about, but somehow not, at the same time. He’s . . . just different, I guess.”

A strange, safe kind of different.

Kankuro grunted. “You look like you’re more than just messing around. Write the dumbass a letter or something. You can’t go five months without speaking to him.”

“I’ll see.” Writing made it feel too real. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit to anything with Shikamaru. Yes, she liked him. A lot. But he was still everything she had been warned about, and while spending time with him was fun and easy, she wasn’t sure if she needed anything more than that. Her feelings about the reality of ‘them’ spiralled, and she didn’t know if she wanted ‘them’ to be serious or not.

She put him out of her mind and continued with work, feeling secure in her denial.

Suna was constantly improving, systems being put into place, refined and reworked, and she was proud of what her village was becoming.

Together, she and Kankuro had designed and overseen the construction of several greenhouses, and now the majority of Suna’s poisons were made in the village, with plants they grew themselves. Kankuro had taken over the export of plants; Temari was liaising between Suna and other villages.

It kept her busy, and it kept her mind occupied, until the next set of Chuunin exams with Konoha loomed, and Shikamaru was back in her thoughts once again. He had written to her twice in the months since they had last seen each other, and she hadn’t replied to either letter, uncertain of what to say and what to feel.

Eventually, due to Kankuro’s endless teasing, she replied with the most neutral response she could think of – nothing too profound, nothing too exciting, nothing that seemed too real. Just the general pleasantries and replies to his short little anecdotes about missions and work and the antics his peers got up to. She told him the date she was returning to Konoha, and sent the letter off before she could rethink it and change her mind.

His reply was swift and to the point, and she stood in her room, smiling like an idiot, with the letter in her hands.

_Cool. See you soon. Looking forward to it._

_Shikamaru._

 

Shikamaru was waiting at the gates again, looking everywhere but at her, and his blatant attempt at avoiding eye contact was amusing. Temari wondered what he had done to be so bashful. He really was hopeless. The smallest things set him on edge and got him flustered. It was still weird to see him like that, as she had worked with him a lot, and nothing work-related ever made him break a sweat.

He could handle anything that wasn’t her, and she loved that. Keeping him off balance was exciting.

He didn’t bother to greet her, just held out one hand. A small cardboard box sat on his palm, and she wondered why it had him so on edge.

“What’re these?” she asked, taking the offered box and peering inside.

“Berries.” Shikamaru answered with a shrug, pointedly looking away. He started walking into the village, not checking to see if she was with him.

She grinned at his discomfort. “Oh, so you’re trying to be nice? Wasn’t it troublesome?”

He flushed. “Shut up. I just . . . Nothing. If you don’t want it-“

“No,” she snapped, shielding the box protectively. “You don’t get it back.”

“Troublesome woman,” Shikamaru mumbled. He pushed slightly ahead of her, clearly trying to get her out of his field of vision.

Temari counted the different berries as she kept up at his side. “So, what are all these?”

Shikamaru sighed. “Raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, gooseberries and cranberries.”

“This one?” she held up a red berry.

“That’s a cranberry.”

“Hm.” Temari studied it for a second before popping it into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Not bad.”

She kept her eyes on him. He looked more uncomfortable than usual, and her curiosity got the better of her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered too quickly.

“How stupid do you think I am?” Temari elbowed him. “Come on, what’s got you all in a state? You look like you’re going to explode at any second.”

To her absolute delight, Shikamaru flushed red. Oh, she loved it when he squirmed. He cleared his throat, saying in one rushed sentence, “Ino says I have to take you on a proper date.”

“ _That’s_ what’s got you all wound up? I thought it’d be something dramatic.” She nudged into his shoulder, and he sidestepped away. “Why does Ino say that?”

“Because the raging cow read my mind and knows about us.” It had been the loudest barbeque dinner he had ever been to. “And she said she’d tell everyone if I didn’t do something nice for you.”

Temari made a mental note to thank Ino. At least someone was rooting for their relationship to go well. All Kankuro did was drop horrendous innuendoes every time she mentioned Konoha. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Defect to a country where no one knows me and start a new life without Ino knowing where I am.”

“And plan B?” she asked.

“. . . Dinner?”

She grinned. “Yeah, let’s go with plan B.”

 

The instigator of plan B ended up banging on Temari’s door at lunch time, and Temari raised her head curiously from where she had been sitting and finishing the last of the berries.

Ino burst into the room. “Firstly – congrats, hope dating goes well and all that shit. Second, come with me, I’m giving you a makeover.”

“You’re what?” Temari blinked.

“Make over. Duh.” Ino had her hands on her hips. “You can’t go out on a special date looking like that.”

Temari was mildly offended. She drew herself up a bit. “Looking like what?”

“Just get up, and follow me.”

Curiosity overcame Temari’s instinctive need to disobey anyone who wasn’t herself, and she ended up following Ino back to her house.

Ino’s room was not as pink and flowery as Temari had been expecting. It looked practical, and neat, and Temari was a bit disappointed by that. She poked at the various bottles of lotions and whatever else sat in endless rows on Ino’s dresser.

“You’re all he thinks about,” Ino said, unexpectedly, seating Temari firmly in front of the mirror and immediately grabbing for her hair and pulling it free.

“What?” Temari flicked her eyes up, meeting Ino’s gaze in the mirror.

“Shikamaru never has less a thousand thoughts in his mind at once,” Ino explained, loosening Temari’s wild hair with her fingers. “But when he thinks about you, everything slows down. You relax him.”

She found that hard to believe. He always seemed on edge around her, unlike his usual lackadaisical self. “No?”

“Yes. Yeah, he’s a stammering fool around you, but trust me, you calm him down. Shikamaru might be lazy, and annoying, but it’s because he’s got too much on his mind to focus on menial things. So once that noise in his head slows down, he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act. Besides,” Ino grinned, “You scare the crap out of him.”

Temari returned the grin. “Good.”

“Ugh, do you ever brush this properly?” Ino demanded. “Your hair is a mess! What do you _do_ to it?” Ino exclaimed, looking horrified, and peering expectantly at Temari’s scalp, as though the answers might be there.

“Nothing?” Temari ventured, unsure of what the response was supposed to be.

“It’s so rough. God, don’t you condition it ever?”

“No?”

Ino looked like she was about to have a stroke. “This is unacceptable. I can’t work like this. Stay put,” she ordered, bustling around her room. She yanked the cupboard doors open, muttering to herself.

Temari remained obediently in place, tracking Ino’s movements. “What are you looking for?”

“Other than some sort of indication that you do, in fact, look after yourself? I’m trying to find where the hell I put my hair dryer, and then you are going to go into that bathroom and actually shower properly.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

“When last did you moisturize your skin?”

“Did I _what_?”

“Temari!” Ino’s expression reached a new level of despair. “You live in a _desert_. It’s dry and probably terrible for your skin. And your _hair_!”

“My hair is fine. If anything, Konoha’s humidity is the problem.” Her bangs had a tendency to rise up and fan out at odd angles. It could be a bit frustrating. Her hair behaved just fine at home. “And my skin is fine too – I know how to function in a desert. Everything gets taken care of.”

“Bull,” Ino replied. “Get up and follow me. I’m going to show you how women actually take care of their bodies.”

Temari figured it was easier to obey than to resist. After an unnecessarily long explanation on shampoo and conditioner, and some mystical thing called body butter, Ino left Temari alone to tackle the shower.

Things were no less intense when she returned to Ino’s room.

“What are your thoughts on make up?” Ino asked, fussing with her hair dryer.

“Sure, whatever. Sounds fun.” She flinched at the hair dryer being turned on, unused to the noise and sensation.

Ino fell silent for a while, and Temari studied the various little bottles on the dresser in front of her.

When it was quiet again, and Ino was brushing methodically through Temari’s now dry and unusually straight hair, Temari ventured a question.

“Why are you doing this?” Temari finally asked.

Ino paused, meeting Temari’s eyes in the mirror. “Doing what?”

“All this. All this . . . for me . . .?”

“Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Shikamaru.” Ino shrugged. “Because we’re friends, because I want someone to pamper and make over. Because, _Princess_ ,” she emphasized the word sharply, “You should at the very least look after yourself.”

Temari blinked. _Friends?_

“Also, in case you’re worried, I wasn’t really going to tell everyone about you and Shikamaru being a thing. I get why you want to keep it quiet. It’s complicated. But I had to threaten Shikamaru somehow. And don’t worry about people thinking you’re on a date because you’re all dressed up – everyone knows Shikamaru has to drag you out to a few important diplomatic dinners and stuff. No one suspects a thing.”

“We’re friends?” Temari queried, oddly hung up on that earlier statement.

Ino paused. “Yes . . .?”

“Oh.” Temari pondered over that. “. . . Thanks.”

“For what?”

“I . . . haven’t really had friends before. Well, there was a boy. I don’t know if you could call us friends.” She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s . . . nice, I guess.”

“Anyone who can get Shikamaru motivated is a friend in my book,” Ino said. She paused. “Your hair is gorgeous loose; why don’t you ever wear it down?”

Temari hesitated before answering. “I . . . don’t like it down.”

“It’s a pity,” Ino said. “It looks lovely.”

Temari couldn’t agree. She fell silent then, letting Ino continue her prattling and pampering. She didn’t think her hair looked good loose, and she probably never would, but she absolutely loved the dress Ino had picked for her, that matched her eyes and swung like water whenever she moved.

“It’s beautiful,” Temari murmured, admiring it in the mirror.

“You can keep it, if you want. I never wear it; doesn’t look right with my colouring. But,” Ino stepped back, admiring her handiwork, “Now you look presentable enough for a proper date. Go on,” she encouraged, “Go and short circuit Shikamaru’s brain.”

 

Apparently Chouji had been bribed into harassing Shikamaru into actually dressing neatly for once. Not that Temari cared; he could dress however he wanted, but she felt incredibly special in her fancy dress, and she wouldn’t have cared what he looked like, so long as she could flit around and enjoy the way the fabric felt swirling around her.

Shikamaru spent no less than two minutes gawking at her in absolute silence with his jaw dropped, before his speech functions returned, and he ventured, cautiously, “. . . You look nice.”

“I look fucking gorgeous,” she retorted, and Shikamaru made an agreeable expression.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “You do.”

He cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly. “So, where do you wanna go?”

“Take me dancing,” she laughed, feeling bubbly and frivolous.

“I’m sorry, what?” Shikamaru blinked.

“Dancing. I want to dance.” Temari grinned. “Take me somewhere no one knows either of us, and let’s dance the whole night.”

“Firstly, no,” Shikamaru hedged. “I don’t dance.”

“Don’t or won’t?” Temari challenged. “Come on, look at this dress, I want people to see it.” She sniffed. “Shikamaru, please. It’ll be fun.”

“What on earth is fun about dancing?”

“I’ll show you.”

He walked into that one. Shikamaru let out a despairing groan, recognising a corner when he’d been backed into one. He tried his best to look disgruntled. But Temari was looking at him pleadingly from under her blonde bangs, and he shifted in place.

“Alright, fine,” he said, exasperated. “But we’re heading to the other side of the damn village.”

He knew he was going to regret every second of the night, but the way she jumped at him, pressing her body closed to his and kissing him breathless made him think it might be worth it.

 

Instead of returning to the embassy as they were supposed to, Shikamaru and Temari wandered the streets when Temari tired of dancing and Shikamaru had exhausted all his energy resources. They walked hand in hand, and, as the night started becoming closer to dawn than evening, found the nearest cheap hotel, booked a room, and collapsed side by side.

It occurred to Temari that she was not wearing a sleeping dress and the fabric would probably be ruined, but she figured Ino would forgive her eventually and the alternative of taking the dress off might cause Shikamaru’s head to explode, and she didn’t want to chance it.

She watched him now as he slept, all long limbs arranged carelessly. He looked so relaxed, face almost peaceful. Part of her wondered what he would do if she threw her leg over him and straddled his hips, if she pinned him down by his shoulders, if she chased after the feelings and the tension between them. Would he go along with it? Would he give in to her every demand, let her do whatever she wanted?

She rolled away from him eventually, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being, and settled down to sleep as well.

It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep beside him.


	32. As Life Goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've got the rest of this story planned. Now I just need to get it written and stop changing my mind every few seconds. Anyway, to celebrate the potential end to my planning here is some sibling banter, because Temari and Kankuro together is under rated and under developed.

Temari staggered into her bedroom, wondering how far past midnight it was, struggling to keep her eyes open. Her return from Konoha had been side-tracked by Gaara asking her to stop off at a small village that Suna had frequent trade with, and Temari had elected to finish the journey home in one leg, instead of spending a night somewhere along the way. She was almost asleep on her feet, but still alert enough to tense on instinct at the presence of another person in her room.

Kankuro sat on her bed, back against the wall, staring blankly ahead. He didn’t turn his head towards her.

Temari closed the bedroom door softly, moving across and setting her fan down against the wall. “You okay?”

“No.”

Temari pulled her hair loose, running her fingers through it absently. It was stiff with sweat, but she ignored that in favour of facing her brother. “What happened?”

He sighed; a deep, painfilled shudder. “I lost the kids.”

“The genin?” Temari cocked her head.

“Yeah.” Kankuro still didn’t look at her. “Had a bunch of them – bouncy little shits just out the Academy – took a short cut through the North desert. Didn’t think much of it. Got ambushed.”

Quietly, she slid her kimono off her shoulders, pulling on the long, loose t-shirt she wore to bed.

“Managed to kill all the bastards but they slaughtered those kids before I could stop them. I lost them all. Whole team, just wiped out.”

She sat next to him, looking at the side of his face. In the dark, with his narrow eyes and tense jaw, he looked like Rasa.

“Never had to worry about that when it was just you and me,” he murmured. “Never once was afraid you’d die. Never had to even consider it when Gaara was with us. We’re invincible. I thought.”

“No one’s invincible. Not even Gaara.” She shifted a bit, to lean her head on his shoulder, and he tipped his head to the side to lean on hers. “You know that. Kids die, and missions fail, and-“

“ _They_ didn’t fail. _I_ did. I failed to protect them. Fuck, Tem, they didn’t stand a chance,” his voice trembled slightly. “Look, I know shit happens. I know. But . . . but I failed, and I’m the only one who fails.”

“What?” she frowned, but didn’t move.

“Gaara’s the Kazekage now. That’s an achievement – that’s _our_ achievement. It was meant to be yours or mine. And I’m happy for him, and he’s happy. And you’re off all over the damn world being an ambassador and showing everyone how great Suna is. And all I’m doing here is getting kids killed.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Temari muttered, kicking the blankets down so she could pull Kankuro down and lie them side by side. “You’re more than that.”

“I miss us working together,” Kankuro murmured. “We haven’t done a mission together in months. And you spend extra time in Konoha, when you can.”

She couldn’t deny that. She had been taking extra days, finding excuses to delay her return home, doing anything she could to eke out a few more moments with Shikamaru. She let out a loud breath.

“Shikamaru, again?” Kankuro asked. “Is that why you came home late?”

“I swung by another village . . .” But Shikamaru had taken her out to dinner. Had taken her up to the top of the stones faces to show her the village bathed in moonlight, had pointed out the constellations that she didn’t know, and she had shown him the ones she could see from Suna. “. . . Are you upset that I’m seeing Shikamaru?”

“No. Just feeling like . . . like we’re growing up and growing apart. You know, we were close as kids.”

They had been inseparable.

“Now . . . now we never do things together anymore.”

“We can do things,” Temari said softly. “If you want to do something together, we can. I’m here, for a few months at least. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“We can go dancing,” she suggested.

Kankuro groaned. “Oh, god, no. Don’t make me do that.”

“If you want something more relaxing,” Temari huffed, pleased to see Kankuro smirk, “I can give Laini a call and see if we can spend a few days at the Estate. There are some nice hot springs there, and this time of year the cherry trees have tiny flowers on them, and the garden walls have these mosaics with old stories on them.”

Kankuro looked at her oddly. After a short, analytical silence, he asked, “You miss him, don’t you?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I’ve got Shikamaru, now.”

“That didn’t answer the question.”

“We all miss things,” she argued. “You miss time with me, and when it was just us against the world. So what if I miss Laini?”

“Okay,” Kankuro sighed. “Where can we go that doesn’t involve an ex-boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my . . .” she trailed off. “There’s a small town to the West that specializes in herbs. We can go there. You can learn all their poison shit that you like.”

“Hm. Sounds good. How do you know about it?”

“I handled their peace treaty with Suna. And got slightly drunk on their beer.”

“I love you being an ambassador,” Kankuro claimed, snuggling firmly against her. “Done deal, then. We’re going to learn about poisons and getting drunk. Take our mind off things.” He added, very softly, “Thanks.”

She kept silent. After a moment, she ran a hand through her hair, brushing it back from her face, and settled down more comfortably to sleep.

 

“Princess!”

Temari turned around, recognizing the voice. “Matsuri?”

The younger girl came running across the street, smiling widely. “How are you? How is . . . how is Gaara-sama?”

“Gaara’s fine,” Temari answered. “I’m fine. Everything alright with you?”

“Better than alright,” Matsuri flushed slightly, and bit her lower lip. “Missions are going well, and I’ve been able to move to a nicer part of town. I mean, everything was going okay where I used to live, but it feels safer now. Not that I wasn’t safe, because Anbu started patrolling, but I feel safer. It’s nice, not having to stress about getting home after dark. Thank you,” she added.

“For what?” Temari asked curiously.

“For . . . for helping me. And . . . encouraging me,” Matsuri flushed pinker. “I might have quit being a shinobi if it wasn’t for you. Um, but you made me feel like I could be worth something.”

Temari wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Thanks?”

She didn’t know what to do with younger shinobi looking to her for guidance. It felt strange. There was a weight to it, but a lightness at the same time.

Matsuri was still smiling. “My friends and I have been training hard together. So we can help protect the village like you do. You know . . . instead of being the ones who need protecting.”

Had Temari ever been the one who needed protecting? She couldn’t remember if she had. There had never been someone looking out her – just herself. Just her, from the moment she had gripped a kunai in her hand and faced the desert wind.

She wandered home deep in thought.

The village had come far, since she was younger and weaker and afraid of every turn in the road. Now, girls like Matsuri didn’t have to worry as much. No one had to worry as much. The village felt safer. It was still weathered and worn, and its shinobi were still hardened and rough, and the sand was still endless and the heat relentless, but there was a calmness to it that she hadn’t known as a child.

Walking through the village now, she felt secure. She didn’t need to check over her shoulder every few seconds, she didn’t need to walk with one hand on her fan, she didn’t need to stare down every man she saw.

The ‘changing the village’ that she and Kankuro had spoken of as children was finally happening.

And it thrilled her, how far things had come.

 

Kankuro sat down opposite Temari at the kitchen table with a loud groan. “I think I’m getting too old to keep up with the kids – I’m exhausted.”

“How’d the mission go?” Temari asked, the Chuunin exam folder open next to her plate as she ate dinner. She smiled fondly; Shikamaru had slid a photo into the folder, of a small group of deer grazing near his house.

“Good,” Kankuro sat down opposite her. “Kids came back okay. Honestly, the mission was the easy part – kids have the self-preservation instincts of lemmings. I swear, we were never that reckless.”

“Baki would probably disagree. Glad you’re all in one piece.”

“I could use a good drink, though,” Kankuro added.

“I went through the Estate on my way home,” Temari said, “And tried a few fancy wines. So there’s some in the fridge. I don’t think you’d like them, though. Too refined for your boorish man tastes.”

“The fuck did you learn the word ‘boorish’?”

“Ino.”

“Anything interesting going on at the Estate?” Kankuro decided to skip over her insult.

“Uzuri is taking over from her father, so she’s going to be in charge of all political affairs in the River Country,” Temari said casually. “And I met Laini’s wife.”

“What’s she like?” Kankuro asked, reaching over to steal Temari’s plate away.

She relinquished it without a fight. “She’s boring as shit. But she painted my nails.” Temari held out a hand for inspection. Her nails were pale peach.

“Couple of the Jounin think you’re having an affair with Laini,” Kankuro said with a grin. “Baki gets so angry when he hears the rumour. Gaara actually told him to calm down.”

“If I was having an affair, no one would know about it,” she stated confidently.

Kankuro’s grin widened.

“Where is Gaara tonight?” Temari tucked the photo into the back of the folder.

“Working late. The council have been bothering him again.”

“Ugh,” Temari groaned. “About me? Since I turned eighteen, they’ve been relentless. Always going on about getting married.”

“I turned eighteen a month ago and no one bothers me about it,” Kankuro was halfway through Temari’s meal.

“You’re a lost cause, that’s why.” Temari muttered. “Hey, I’m not doing anything tonight. Wanna hang out?”

“Is beer and chocolate a weird combination, because that’s what I feel like.”

“Since when have you cared about being weird? Let’s do it,” Temari closed the folder. “And you owe me dinner, since you stole mine.”

“I got the cherry chocolate you like from Kiri so we’re even,” Kankuro said smugly.

Temari considered that. “. . . Okay, fine, we’re even.”

“Good. Your room or mine?”

“Yours. Your bed is used to having beer spilled on it.” Temari stood up. “Let me get this file put away and then we can hang out.”

Kankuro gave her a thumbs up, mouth full.

She left the folder on her desk in her room before changing into her comfortable sleeping clothes, then made her way to Kankuro’s room. He had somehow managed to beat her there, and threw a bar of chocolate at her as she came through the door, followed by a beer.

Temari caught them both. “Don’t let me get drunk – I’ve got work in the morning.”

“It’s talking to the council, and honestly, I’d get drunk specifically for that,” Kankuro replied casually, jumping onto his bed and popping the cap off his beer. He sat against the wall, slouching.

Temari settled next to him, shoulder to shoulder, their backs against the wall. “That council is going to drive me insane.”

“It’s stupid,” Kankuro muttered. “No one has ever mentioned anything about me or Gaara getting married; they only bother you about it.”

“That’s because I’m a woman and they’re all idiots, and also you couldn’t find someone to marry even if your life depended on it,” Temari retorted, taking a sip of her drink.

“I got you into bed with me, didn’t I?”

Temari snorted, nearly choking. She shoved him, hard, pushing him off the bed. “You’re an _ass_.”

She laughed, leaning back, tension leaving her.

Kankuro climbed back on the bed. “ _Careful_ , you’ll spill the drink.” He nudged up against her shoulder. “But seriously. You’re the only one the councils bothers about getting married.”

“Imagine how wild things would’ve been if I was gay.” Temari mused, squinting into her drink.

“The whole council would have died of a collective heart attack,” Kankuro claimed. “So things would have worked out in your favour.”

“But,” Temari sighed. “That doesn’t help me now. Because now I want to find someone and be with someone, and I can bet the council is going to try to prevent it.”

“Shikamaru?” Kankuro questioned.

“Even if it’s not Shikamaru, and it’s someone else, someone later, I still want it to be my choice. I still want to have that freedom. I don’t even know what I want, but I know I want to be my own person and not listen to anyone.”

“Shikamaru wants kids,” Kankuro said blandly.

Temari stared at him.

“What? He talks to Naruto, Naruto talks to Gaara, and Gaara repeats back everything Naruto says because he’s smitten and it’s cute to watch him.” Kankuro shrugged casually. “Gaara and I have long talks while you’re away.”

“About Shikamaru’s goals for the future?”

“About lots of things.” He looked down at his lap. “Do you want kids?”

“Not really. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it much. Just having someone would be nice; I don’t know about all the other things. Like . . . if Dad could fall in love, then I should be able to, too. That’s all I’m looking for.”

“I don’t think being like Dad is a goal we should be aiming for,” Kankuro muttered.

“I’m not . . .” She considered her words. She didn’t want to be like Rasa, but the thought lingered. Because if Rasa could fall in love, could find someone who loved him back, with all that he was, then Temari should be able to, as well. Because she wanted to believe Rasa hadn’t broken her down so much that she couldn’t learn to love someone, because he hadn’t taught her how. She wanted to know that she could have a fairy tale future that didn’t end in blood and sand and skeletons.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she murmured, pushing harder against Kankuro, seeking out warmth and comfort. She sipped her drink, head resting on his shoulder. “What about you? You haven’t been seeing anyone, have you?”

“Nah. Haven’t really put much thought into it.” Kankuro tipped his head slightly, resting his cheek against Temari’s hair. “I guess I don’t have time for other people. I’m enjoying taking the kids on missions, and you know how teaching takes up time. And there’s all the Kazekage stuff I help Gaara with.”

“Do you want to find someone?”

“I dunno. I’ve got enough, with you and Gaara. I guess if I did find someone, that’d be fine, but I’m not actively looking.”

“What about Gaara?” Temari felt like she hadn’t spoken to her youngest brother in ages. Working out of the village so much didn’t leave her with much time to spend with him, and she felt slightly guilty. She always had time for Kankuro, but somehow Gaara seem to slip by her.

“He’s focused on work, and the village, and making a better future.”

“Hm,” Temari let her eyes close. “He’s doing a good job.”

“Yeah.” She felt Kankuro shift, putting an arm around her shoulders. “He is.”

“Can I stay here tonight?” Temari asked softly, leaning a bit heavier against Kankuro’s side.

“Yeah,” he replied just as softly. “Don’t have to ask.”

She knew she didn’t have to ask.

But it was nice to hear someone wanting her to stay.

 

She was preparing to leave for Konoha again, finalizing details over breakfast.

“So, how is the secret boyfriend doing?” Kankuro asked innocently, resting his chin on one palm and blinking across the kitchen table.

Temari sipped her tea, looking over the next set of papers for the Chuunin exams. “He’s fine.”

“Slept with him yet?”

“None of your business if I did, but no.” She glared at him. “Leave him alone, Kankuro. He’s still young.”

“I’m just looking out for you. What are brothers for?”

“You’re not looking out for me; you’re just trying to find some reason to tease me.” She kept her gaze fixed firmly down, trying her best to ignore him. Shikamaru had been in her thoughts for a while now – mostly because she wanted more, and she was finding the distance between them irritating. Shikamaru seemed happy with this slow, laid-back pace their relationship was taking. He was calm and relaxed with the small physical changes they had made – holding hands and gentle kisses, and soft touches here and there, and he got distracted easily just watching her.

But she wanted more. She was beyond kissing and innocent touches through layers of clothing. She wanted him, every way, and his hesitancy was frustrating. She wanted and needed something more, anything, because that’s how life in the desert was lived.

It was hard and fast, it was a fight, and she wasn’t going to wait anymore. Nothing good came from waiting. No one lived by sitting idly by. Opportunities were seized. Things were taken.

“You’re not the type to sit around and wait,” Kankuro observed. “Everything okay?”

“Why the interest in my sex life?” she asked snappily.

“Because you get all moody and snappish,” Kankuro shot back. “Even Gaara could tell you were in a better mood when you were stopping off and fucking Laini every few weeks.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop talking, Kankuro.”

“But you are getting moody,” he grinned.

“Maybe I’m moody because you keep irritating me,” she growled.

“I’ve been doing that for years and it’s never been a problem before.”

She wondered if he would dodge in time if she threw her tea at him. She casually calculated the distance between them.

As she did, Kankuro wisely backed up a few steps. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re the stupid one,” she grumbled. She tried studiously to ignore him for a few minutes, but his mere presence was irritating her, and she stood up abruptly. “I’m leaving for Konoha early. Tell Gaara.”

“I’ll add ‘booty call’ to your mission objective.”

The mug clipped his ear as it went sailing into the wall, and Kankuro lapsed into snorts and chuckles.


	33. Temari's Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the chapter that's been holding things up the most - because I've been struggling to write this one for weeks and I still hate it, and I had been avoiding it because, well, I don't like it. But I needed it - it's been rewritten and reworked dozens of times and I'm still not happy with it, but I won't ever like it so it'll just have to do. I just want to get it out of the way and move on to better things.

Kankuro must have sent a messenger hawk ahead to let Konoha know Temari was arriving early, because Shikamaru was waiting for her, smiling fondly, head tilted slightly the way he did when he was thinking too much.

At the sight of him, she could feel herself relax slightly. She had been wound up and irritated on the journey here, still hung up on Kankuro’s teasing and her own frustrations and the lack of a physical relationship with Shikamaru, but now she had a chance to do something about it, and she pushed her annoyance down.

Konoha was always peaceful. There was nothing to worry about. And they had a day or two to themselves, and she intended to use it well.

“Hey,” she said, smiling softly at him.

He glanced around, checking no one was watching. Once satisfied they were alone, he reached out a hand to take one of hers in his, thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “Hey.”

There wasn’t much else she needed to say, and they had a small routine by now that they fell into without hesitation. Walking side by side to where she was staying, hands close together but not quite touching. It was companionable and familiar.

They were close to her hotel when Shikamaru yawned widely.

“Am I boring you already?” she cocked an eyebrow.

Shikamaru shrugged one shoulder. “Well, if you’re going to be troublesome and come through early, I had to stay up late finishing things. All I really want to do is go to bed.”

What a coincidence; their goals aligned perfectly.

She felt a thrill of anticipation run through her, and she hooked her little finger around his, pulling his hand slightly closer to her. He allowed it, even sending her a small, sideways, half-hidden smile.

“Gonna stay with me a bit?” she asked, gauging his reaction, trying to see what kind of mood he was in – open to new things, or wary of pushing past the boundaries they had tested so far.

He seemed pretty relaxed. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” She had missed him. She was finding the distance between them immeasurably frustrating – unable to chase the feelings and desires she had in the months between Chuunin exams and diplomatic meetings. It made her want to make every second they had alone count, and give over to all the simmering affection she felt.

And she would now.

He was pliant and willing as she dragged him into her room, still watching her with that soft smile she had learnt was just for her. She kicked the door closed and pulled him down for a kiss – this was normal now. He was used to it, didn’t resist her, just let her lead and be in charge, and that was soothing. Control was good.

“Any specific reason you’re here early?” Shikamaru enquired when she stepped away from him long enough to set her fan against the wall.

She threw him a wicked grin. “How ‘bout I show you?”

There was a slight pause while Shikamaru considered the implication of that, but Temari didn’t give him too long to overthink – she pulled him back to her for another searing kiss, before casually shoving him into the adjoining bedroom and pushing him onto the edge of the bed.

“This is different,” Shikamaru said, and Temari wasn’t certain, but she thought she caught a whisper of nervousness in his tone.

She decided to ignore it. “It’s a good different.”

He looked searchingly into her eyes, his gaze calculating. For a moment, Temari paused, caught in his dark shadow eyes. She just looked at him for one still, heartbeat-tense moment, and he looked back at her, and it cemented her desire.

Softer this time, she kissed him again, just a gentle touch of lips while her hands hooked loosely behind his neck, one thumb brushing gently into the hair at the back of his head, and he seemed to relax under the action.

Pleased, she shifted her weight, shifted her hands to his shoulders and pressed him down onto his back, settling her knees on either side of him. Shikamaru tensed.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rushed out in one breath, moving almost restlessly beneath her.

“What?” she asked, sounding somewhat irritated, because why was he interrupting her now, when things were going well? She had been waiting for this, for an annoyingly long time, and she wasn’t going to stop now.

He hesitated, letting out a quick, nervous breath before saying, “How . . . how far are you planning on taking this?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “All the way. Why?”

He paused then, brain working overtime to sort through everything. She didn’t have the patience to wait for him, taking his silence as consent, and slid her hands further up his chest, pushing his shirt up at the same time.

“Temari. Stop.”

“What now?” She sat back slightly, a growl behind her words.

“I . . .” Shikamaru was still thinking hard, flicking his way through his options. He drew in a deep breath. “I’m not ready for all that . . .”

“Why not? It’s been months.” She stared down at him. Before he could formulate a better argument, she added, “I want you. Have for a while now. So why not?”

“I don’t . . .” Shikamaru’s eyes darted around the room, trying to fly through every possible thing to say.

“Don’t _what_?” She recognised that she shouldn’t be getting angry at him, but she was. Because she wanted this, she had been waiting for this, and things were going well; why would he object to that? This was normal, this was something people did, this was not a difficult thing to comprehend.

“Just give me a minute,” Shikamaru said, scratching a hand nervously on the side of his head. “Give me a second, I’m trying to figure this out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Temari growled.

“There is, because you’re backing me into a corner.” He closed his eyes briefly to gather up some confidence and calm. “It’s not that . . . It’s just . . . I’m just not ready, that’s all.”

“But why not?” she demanded. She couldn’t understand him – this was how people made relationships real. This is what life in Suna had always been; this was the only way of life she knew.

Years of take, take, take. Years of grabbing what she could, be it affection, be it success, be it physicality. Her life had been lived at breakneck speed, where there wasn’t time to wonder and revel, there wasn’t time to wait and reflect. You took what came, before the desert winds blew it away.

It was as Shikamaru blinked at her, utterly lost, that she realized how young he was. She tended to forget, now that he was taller than her, and never acted like a goofy teenager, and was leagues ahead of his peers in maturity and self-control. But still so young. Young, and naïve, and not ready to take on the full force of Suna’s most deadly hurricane, and she wondered if he ever would be.

He was thinking as fast as he could; she could see the thoughts flickering rapidly through his head.

“Please stop. I can’t give you anything more, right now,” he said slowly, still piecing his thoughts together. “I don’t know how and I’m not ready, and I . . .” He looked away, frowning. “I don’t know why you’re angry at me for that.”

Neither did she. Anger was just her default reaction. Especially when she was uncertain. She didn’t say anything, sorting through her emotions. It felt like she was starting some big and monumental argument, even though Shikamaru looked unarmed and unprepared for the fight.

“Come on, we’ve been waiting for this,” she said. “How can you not be ready? You’re sixteen already.”

“ _Only_ sixteen,” he said, trying to slide out from under her.

Temari tightened her knees against his side. “Only? And you’re telling me you’ve never been put into a situation like this before?”

“I haven’t.” He stayed still, watching her warily. “It’s never come up before.”

“Sixteen is a late start, in Suna,” she scoffed.

“How old were you?” His frown deepened. He swallowed; nervousness still very much present. “How old were you the first time you got into a situation like that . . . this?”

“Twelve,” she answered, and Shikamaru’s whole body tightened.

“What?” he asked faintly.

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Temari shrugged one shoulder, trying to block out the anxious shudder that came with the memory. She relaxed her legs, releasing the pressure on his sides. “I stopped him before he could. But I was ready for it.”

“That’s . . . that’s not normal, Temari. That shouldn’t have happened.” The nervousness was morphing into something else, confusion and horror taking its place. Some other emotion she couldn’t place.

“It’s how we live, in the desert,” she answered with a forcibly nonchalant head toss. “That’s how life goes.”

“It shouldn’t have to.” He let out a tense breath. “You were twelve, you should never have been put into a situation like that . . .”

It was pity. That was what she was seeing. And she didn’t need to be pitied.

“Save your sympathy,” she snapped, anger flaring up again. “I did what was needed for my village and for my mission.”

“And how much did that mission mess you up?” Shikamaru asked carefully.

“It _didn’t_.”

“Didn’t it?” he frowned deeply. “You wanna tell me that you never think about it, and it didn’t change anything, and it never made you feel like you had to turn everything into a fight and win at everything?”

“Shut up,” she snapped, getting up and pacing restlessly away. “I’m fine, okay? Nothing changed.”

With the weight of her body off him, Shikamaru visibly relaxed. He sat up slowly, readjusting his shirt. “Can we talk, or are you just going to scream at me?”

She threw him a glare.

“Temari?”

“ _What_?” she rounded on him again. “Are you going to shut up and let me do whatever I want to you?”

“No,” he replied, forcing his voice to stay level and not tremble.

“Then what the fuck are we doing?” she resumed pacing, feeling her irritation coil up and twist tighter. Her fingers twitched for her fan, the urge to lash out and destroy something almost overwhelming. “Why are we pretending this is going to work when we want different things? We should just . . . give up now.”

“What?” Shikamaru’s jaw slackened slightly. “Are you seriously suggesting we break up because I won’t have sex with you?”

“We want different things,” she said. “So why bother when our goals don’t align?”

“Don’t be stupid-“

“The distance is too hard. You’re three days away, and maybe we both deserve someone closer. This is impossible, and it’s not going to work, and it’ll be months before we even see each other again after this and I want more that _you won’t give me!_ ” She had been building up to an argument for days, and Shikamaru was the only one around to pick a fight with.

“Please stop yelling at me. Just calm down and be reasonable-“

“What do you want in life?” she challenged, eyes narrowed.

Shikamaru didn’t answer.

“I know what I want,” Temari continued, voice still sharp. “I want something physical. I want something fast and real. And you want . . . you want a family, and a quiet life, and fucking _kids_. This soft, fairy tale ending or whatever shit you dream up. Whatever you want, it’s not me.”

“Temari . . .”

“I’m not like that; I’m not gentle and whatever else you dream about. You’ve been so sheltered living here, but that’s not what it was like for me. I grew up surrounded in blood and death, and you don’t know some of the things I’ve done.”

Shikamaru stayed quiet.

“I hurt people. On purpose. I’ve stabbed men’s eyes out for looking at me, and I’ve broken their arms for touching me, and I’ve done so many things so much worse, and you know what? I like it. I like doing it, because Suna shinobi are cruel. I like watching the fear in their eyes, I like the way it feels when bones break beneath skin. Okay? And I like when you pay attention to me, and is it too much to ask for more of that? A more physical side of that? It’s just sex, Shikamaru, it’s not a big deal, but it’s something I want, and if you can’t give me what I want and I can’t give you what you want, then why are we kidding ourselves into thinking this is going to work?” She ran a hand through her bangs, tugging slightly.

“Temari,” he tried again, but she cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear it. Just _don’t_ , okay? Just don’t over complicate things with all your thinking and all your waiting.”

“Will you be reasonable for five minutes and just let us talk?” Shikamaru shifted restlessly.

“About what?” she snapped.

“This. Us.” He looked away, hideously uncomfortable. “. . . Feels like you might be blowing things out of proportion here. Just ‘cause I don’t want to . . . you know, have sex, right now, doesn’t mean that nothing between us is going to work.”

“You’re obviously hung up on your fantasy land of peace and family, and that’s not going to happen with me.”

“What – that’s – that’s got nothing to do with _right now_.”

“It has _everything_ to do with right now,” she almost screamed at him, barely keeping her voice in check. “Because you’re not the type to fool around and be with someone just because you want something, just because you desperately need the company, just because you’re _fucking lonely_ and you want someone to be around. This means more to you than it does to me! _We_ mean more to you than we do to me.”

He looked startled at that, but didn’t contradict her.

Temari pushed her hair back again, trying to fight back the urge to attack in some way. “And I’m never going to fit into your life, not the way you want – waiting and gentle and taking our damn time. It’s not me. I’m going to tear you apart, Shikamaru, I’m going to destroy you and I don’t wanna do that! I don’t want to be the reason you’re miserable, I don’t want to be the person who ruins your life because I’m not what you want. I’ll never be what you want. This won’t work, we won’t work, so why are we trying? I’m not what you need. I’m not what you planned.”

Shikamaru was quiet, not denying her.

“Tell me you can let all of that go right now, and get out of your head for five seconds and just enjoy life!” A small part of her wanted to take it back, take it all back, but she was feeling off balance and uncertain, and she had only been taught to hit where it hurt to regain control. And he wasn’t reacting the right way, wasn’t rising to her arguments, wasn’t shouting back at her, so all she could do was try to fight harder until he reacted the way she was used to.

_Just fight_ , she thought. _Just fight and scream and try to take me down like everyone else does. Just fight back, because I know what to do then._

But he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t try to take her down like Giza had, he wouldn’t try to shout her down like Rasa had, he wouldn’t try to snap back and deny her like Daimaru had. He wouldn’t do anything that anyone else did.

He wouldn’t fight. He wouldn’t make anything a fight if he could help it. Soft little Leaf ninja, who didn’t like his job but did it doggedly because he was the best. Who let her steamroll over his thoughts and actions without protest. Who never, ever tried to take advantage of her, with anything.

Different.

Different to what she knew.

And she didn’t know what to do with different, didn’t know what it meant or how to react. Because she didn’t know how to live without a fight, and he wasn’t giving her that.

He just sat and stared at the floor, shoulders hunched, looking small and defeated.

“We’re done.” The words felt bitter, but she didn’t know what else to say. She had to say them, or she hadn’t won the fight. And she wouldn’t let herself lose. “I’m going home. I’ll tell Kankuro to send someone else to help you with these exams.”

He looked up at her, dark eyes hopeless. And he didn’t fight. “Okay.”

 

She was several hours out of Konoha before the guilt caught up with her, and she slowed her journey home, coming to a drifting, wandering halt and looking back in the direction of Konoha.

Everything caught up to her all at once, and she slumped against the nearest tree.

_What the fuck did I just do?_ She wondered.

For a moment, she almost turned back. Almost returned, to talk to him, to try to figure herself out, to understand what she was feeling.

_And say what?_ She asked herself. _Say – sorry, Shikamaru, but I was raised to fight and if that’s not what I’m doing then I have no idea how to exist. And if things get even the slightest bit uncertain, the only solution I know is to get angry._

She scrubbed a hand across her face, forcing back the prickling of tears. Her stomach twisted, in a new, excruciating way she hadn’t felt before. For the first time, she thought she might be feeling regret.

Because she shouldn’t have yelled at him. Shouldn’t have got angry at him. Shouldn’t have said the things she said.

_He was just nervous,_ she thought. Just scared. Just needed a little time and a little comfort, and she didn’t know how to give that. And she should turn around and apologise, and she should tell him it was okay, and she should smooth things over and patch things up and assure him that things were the same between them, that nothing had changed.

That she had flown off the handle like she always did, consumed by anger, because that’s all she had been taught and it’s how she had learnt to solve problems.

But she wasn’t ready to admit to being in the wrong, or asking too much of him, or anything. Suna shinobi did not back down, and did not apologise, and Rasa’s daughter didn’t admit fault. She didn’t compromise and she didn’t go back on her word, and she didn’t run back to someone asking forgiveness.

So she swallowed down the thick guilt in her throat, pushed it stubbornly back, ignored the nauseating clenching in her stomach, and turned resolutely in the direction of home.


	34. Who Am I

Gaara didn’t question her return to the village, but he did spend the whole of dinner watching her.

She made a point to ignore him. And the looks Kankuro kept giving her.

It was the next day that Gaara asked quietly, standing in the doorway to her bedroom, “Did something happen?”

“No.” She answered swiftly and shortly, fiddling with whatever was around just so she didn’t have to look at him.

Gaara mulled her answer over for a while. “You’re usually happy to be in Konoha. Did something happen with Shikamaru? I thought you were getting along well with him?”

“Nothing happened,” she said waspishly. “Nothing has or probably ever will happen with Shikamaru.”

He had no idea what subtext he was meant to be reading there, but he assumed there was something. He forged on anyway, “Is he okay?”

“Probably.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Leave me alone, Gaara,” she threw him an annoyed look.

He stayed where he was.

“I don’t wanna talk, okay? Go away, do whatever you need to do, but stop bothering me.” She felt snappish and out of sorts, and it was wrong to take it out on Gaara, but she didn’t know what else to do. She felt instantly guilty when he didn’t move and she snarled, “Why are you still here?”

Gaara tilted his head slightly. “You wouldn’t have said to me a few years ago.”

“A few years ago, you’d kill me,” she said bitterly. “A few years ago, I didn’t trust you.”

She sank down on her bed, stomach twisting. “Just leave, Gaara. Please.”

He hesitated. “. . . Kankuro is home today. If you want to talk to him.”

When she said nothing, he finally moved from her doorway. She almost called out to stop him.

Instead, she stood up and quietly closed her bedroom door.

 

Kankuro had a puppet spread across his desk, and held one arm up, squinting at the joint.

Temari came silently into his room.

“Are you busy?” she asked softly, hating how vulnerable her voice sounded. “Today, I mean.”

He paused before answering. Laying the puppet down, he shook his head and turned to face her. “Not if you need me to not be busy.”

“Can we go somewhere together? I don’t care where.”

“Wanna go dancing?”

She shook her head, and Kankuro frowned.

“Now I know something’s wrong. Come on, Tem, what’s the matter?”

She paused, biting her lower lip.

“I yelled at Shikamaru. Like, a lot. And I shouldn’t have.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I want more and he can’t give me that, and I got angry. I always get angry. It’s like . . .” She shook her head. “Like I can’t shake Dad off. Everything’s going well, and life is getting better all the time, and I feel like I’m just stuck as Dad made me. I know I can be cruel. I don’t think I can ever get away from that part of myself.”

Kankuro let out a loud breath, scratching absently at his cheek. “Tem . . .”

“You’ve changed,” she said. “Since Dad died. You’ve changed a lot – you’re happier. You laugh more. You and Gaara get along great. You don’t get angry on missions, and you don’t try your best to destroy people . . .”

“What’s this about?” Kankuro asked, coming closer, face lined with concern.

“Shikamaru wants to fall in love, and have a family, and have one of those futures we never thought was possible, but I don’t think I can. I don’t think I’m capable. I can’t even find patience with him, there’s no way I could ever . . . I don’t want to raise a family like Dad did.” She stared at the floor. “Shikamaru was scared. Of something between us changing. And I didn’t try to help him with that, I just yelled at him. I just got angry. Told him we were done.”

Kankuro hesitated, unsure of what to say. He was close to her now, and laid a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t shrug him off, and he pulled her close, arm around her shoulders. “Listen, Tem, you’re not like Dad.”

“Sure about that?” she asked bitterly. “Because I like Shikamaru, a lot, and I’m trying to find ways to prove to myself that I don’t. I can’t even spend time with him without trying to fucking sabotage my entire life.”

Kankuro squeezed her lightly. “Come on, Tem, you’re not that bad.”

“He’s the one person in the world I don’t want to fuck things up with,” she admitted softly. “But I feel like I can’t stop myself. Like there’s no way to live but fighting, and he doesn’t need that . . .”

Kankuro swallowed. “Tem . . . how serious is it, between you two? You just . . . you’re talking like it really, really matters. I thought you were just fooling around with him.”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “He matters, okay? He matters enough that I’m scared of screwing him up because I don’t know how to be with people.”

She hadn’t voiced that before, but now that she had, she realized how true it was. And most of her anger that she had thought was at Shikamaru was directed at herself. Because she wanted him, she wanted this relationship – or whatever it was they had – and she didn’t know how to function in one. She had no baseline for healthy interactions with people. She only knew how to fight her way through life.

“Why would he ever want me when all I do is make his life harder?” She buried her face against Kankuro’s shoulder. “I’m too messed up to make this work. I basically told him we were done because I didn’t know what else to say.”

Kankuro sighed. “You can go back and talk to him. Just tell him everything you told me. End things if you want, or keep trying if he means that much, but whatever it is you decide, you’re not like Dad, got it?”

She nodded, still hidden against him. “I can’t go back yet. I need some time to think. And . . . try to figure out what the hell I want in life.”

“Okay.” Kankuro pulled away. “Wanna go out for dinner together?”

“I’m not hungry,” she shrugged one shoulder. “Can we go sit on the border wall and just talk?” She needed something normal. She needed something calm and peaceful.

Kankuro nodded once. “Yeah, we can.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“What are brothers for?” Kankuro asked lightly.

“Mostly being annoying little shits.”

“Ah,” Kankuro grinned, “That sounds more like you.”

It took some effort, but she returned his smile.

 

These days, Temari didn’t spend much time with Baki. She had outgrown most of what he could offer her, but he still checked up on her frequently, and on the rare occasion that both of them had overlapping amounts of time free, they would head to the nearest empty section of village and train together.

“Your hand to hand combat is still sloppy,” Baki said now, almost smiling at the way Temari rolled her eyes at him.

She wiped a hand across her forehead, pushing sweat-soaked bangs back. “Yeah, and I still fight long range and it still doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. What if someone gets close to you?”

“In all these years,” she snapped, swinging her fan back, “Have you ever seen anyone get close to me - who I didn’t _want_ close - who lived to tell the tale?”

“That you have the power and capability to defend yourself still doesn’t change the fact that your hand to hand is not good,” Baki said calmly.

_Ugh, men were so annoying_ , Temari thought. “I’ve never been caught before where that was a problem. No one can get me into a situation where it matters.”

“What about Nara?”

His question made her pause, and she suddenly realised that this was his real reason for coaxing her out into the open. He wanted to talk, about the rumours around the village, about the amount of time she spent in Konoha, about the way she perked up when Konoha was mentioned.

About the way she had stormed home and refused to tell Gaara why, and the subsequent four-day long sulk.

She straightened up hesitantly, one hand still gripping her fan firmly. She liked the comfort it provided. “What do you mean?”

“In terms of people getting close,” he clarified, voice very level and not betraying any sort of intention. “Didn’t Nara catch you out once?”

She sighed. “That’s what you want to talk about, isn’t it?”

“You take extra days in Konoha. You go early to assignments there. The only other time you’ve ever added days onto journeys is when you were stopping by the Estate and seeing Laini.”

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” she ventured.

“You and Kankuro have never been good at keeping secrets from me.” Baki eyed her. “Then suddenly you come back home in a huff and refuse to talk to Gaara. What’s going on with that Konoha boy?”

“Nothing,” she said, voice turning sour.

“’Nothing’ is the reason you’ve been avoiding everyone?”

“It’s nothing, okay?” she repeated, anger rising. “It was something, and now it’s nothing, and it’ll always be nothing, because that’s the best I can do.”

Baki waited.

She growled, frustration rising rapidly. “We had something, but I fucked it up, because that’s all I know how to do. I thought maybe I could have something, maybe I could have a shot at a normal relationship, but I don’t know how, and now there’s nothing going on between me and Shikamaru. It’s over. Whatever it was. It’s over because I fucked it up.”

“Why?” he asked, voice level.

“Because I have no help,” she snapped. “I have no idea what I’m meant to be doing, or what I’m meant to be feeling. There has never been anyone for me to look to for this – I have no baseline for healthy relationships!”

Baki heaved a breath, but didn’t interrupt her ranting.

“I don’t know what to do or what to think or even how to feel. It’s just me, and no one else. There’s no help, there’s no one to talk to, there is no one to look to and to observe and learn from. I’m alone in this. I can never know how to fall in love because no one here knows _how_!”

“Temari,” Baki said, voice devoid of inflection, “You have people to talk to.”

“No, I have Kankuro and Gaara, and they both look to me for things like this. Because I’m the oldest, because I’m meant to somehow magically know these things, because they don’t know any more than I do but I don’t know what to do!”

“You have me, as well.”

“What do you know about love?” Temari asked bitterly. “You grew up here, just like me, and you don’t know a damn thing about loving anyone.”

“I didn’t,” Baki said levelly.

Temari looked at him sharply.

“You know as well as I do that Suna shinobi aren’t ones who love easily. It’s not who we are. We don’t love people because people die too easily.” Baki held eye contact. “When I started training you – and your brothers – you three didn’t mean anything to me. You were assets. You were Suna’s future and keeping you all alive was in the village’s best interest.”

She huffed, looking away, eyes on the dunes.

“Things change,” he continued. “Years passed. I watched you all grow. I watched Gaara take up the mantle of Kazekage. I watched Kankuro leave behind his more obstinate tendencies and begin to make choices for his village, and do his best to protect it and build it up. I watched you change from an angry little girl with a grudge against the world to someone who Suna views as one of her most powerful and valuable warriors. And somewhere along that road, I learned how to love you three.”

Temari sniffed, still not looking at him.

“There are a lot of ways to love. You love your brothers, you love your village, you love the desert. So don’t tell me that you don’t know how to love someone. If you want something, you go for it. It’s not love that you don’t understand. It’s how to express it.”

“I don’t know what I feel,” she admitted softly. “Dad fucked up our perceptions of emotions so much.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Baki said, with a sure nod. “I’ve seen you move storms; you can figure out what you want. You have the power to change the entire landscape around you. Just turn a little of that power inwards, and you’ll find the strength to understand yourself.”

Hesitantly, Temari looked up at him.

“Does this boy matter to you?”

“Yes.” That, she could answer without hesitating. Because Shikamaru did matter, he mattered in a way no one else had before, and that both thrilled and terrified her. “But I don’t know if he’ll . . .”

She trailed off. Clearing her throat slightly, she tried again, “I don’t know if he’ll take me back.”

“He’s a genius, isn’t he?” Baki asked.

“Yeah.”

A gentle, barely there smile cracked across Baki’s weathered face. “Well, he’d have to be pretty stupid to give you up so easily. So, if he’s as smart as you say, I wouldn’t worry.”

Temari sighed. “Yeah, that sounds cute and all, but . . . I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“When are you next going back to Konoha?”

“Not for a while. I’ve got that diplomatic meeting in the Iron Country, and I guess I could leave for Konoha from there, if Gaara doesn’t need me for anything urgent,” she shrugged. “But that will only be in a few weeks.”

“That gives you plenty to time to think about what you want in life and who you want to be.”

Temari smiled thinly. “You told me to forget about boys and focus on me.”

“I did,” Baki agreed. “But this time, I think this boy might help you figure out who you are.”


	35. Always on My Mind

Both Kankuro and Gaara were out when she returned home that evening. The house was empty, and lonely, and Temari didn’t want to be alone. She wanted someone to talk to, someone to pay attention to her. She wanted someone who would give in to her every demand. Someone who would listen to whatever she told them to do, just to let her regain back the control she had lost, and drown out the feelings of guilt and regret that had been lingering ever since she had returned from Konoha.

Someone who would get Shikamaru out of her head for a while, because trying to figure out what she was feeling was immensely confusing and she was sick of the guilt.

She threw her fan down onto her bed, stripped off every weapon on her body, and left the house. She crossed the village swiftly, dodging the Anbu guards until she was out of their usual patrol range, and found herself seeking out the bar she and Kankuro occasionally snuck into when they were younger.

There was no reason to sneak now – she could go anywhere she wanted, but she tried not to make a habit of going there. But there was always music playing, and always people dancing, and sometimes she just needed to unwind and stop thinking about Konoha. And Shikamaru.

She spotted Jade before he saw her, making her way across the room solely because he was a familiar face. “Jade.”

His head snapped around to face her. “Oh. Oh, hey, Princess.”

He had a black eye and a bandaged wrist, and he smiled sheepishly, “Rough mission. Uh, do you want to dance?”

She glanced back across the room, just doing a cursory check of her surroundings. “Yeah. I do.”

A few dances in, a few drinks in, and the feelings of frustration and irritation still hadn’t faded. The guilt hadn’t faded, the unease hadn’t faded. And Shikamaru hadn’t faded. He was lurking in her mind, always in the shadows. She needed some way to get him out of her thoughts, some way to push the memories aside, to just have a moment where she could think of something else.

“You still single?” she asked Jade, in a wild moment of impulsiveness.

He nodded. “I am. Why?”

“Because even I still have some morals left.”

She dragged Jade back to his house, nails digging into his arm, and he let her. He let her do whatever she wanted, he let her push him down onto his bed, he let her push his hands away when he tried to touch her, he let her vent her frustrations.

Afterwards, she lay on her side in the darkness of his room, trying to decide if she should fall asleep there or bolt before he woke up. If he was even asleep. She hadn’t checked.

He was breathing steadily, but so was she.

“This was a onetime thing, wasn’t it?” So he wasn’t asleep.

“Probably.” She didn’t turn to look at him.

He made a low, acknowledging noise under his breath. “Thanks.”

She almost laughed. “You’re welcome.”

Why couldn’t it be this easy with Shikamaru? Just the two of them, happy together, sweat-damp and feeling light and relaxed. Why did it have to mean too much, and be too profound, and upset his delicate genius brain? Why couldn’t Shikamaru just calm down and be with her without all that extra mental calculating he couldn’t ever seem to leave behind? Why did every thought she had about him have to have weight and meaning?

“Who were you trying to forget?” Jade asked.

“What?”

“Figured you wanted to get someone out of your mind, and I was a convenient way to do that.”

It hadn’t worked.

She sat up abruptly, and Jade’s eyes roamed shamelessly over her body. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Are you kidding? Suna’s princess asks me to sleep with her, and you think I’m going to stop you?” Jade grinned. “No, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say no to.”

“You could have had anyone else.”

“So could you.” He stretched leisurely. “Why did you choose me?”

“Because I know you. Because I knew you’d do what I say.”

“You do like it when I do that,” Jade observed. When Temari continued to stare at him, he added, with a casual shrug, “We take what we can get here. I’m not gonna say no if you ask to sleep with me. Things like that don’t happen to me often.”

She flopped onto her back again.

For some reason, his words struck her. _We take what we can get._

They didn’t in Konoha. They didn’t have to. In Konoha, there were options, there were opportunities. There was time, there was peace, there was little danger compared to the sand dusted desert. In Konoha, special things could be savoured.

And Shikamaru liked to take his time. Especially on things he enjoyed, things he deemed important. Like watching those damn clouds.

Like watching her.

She rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in one hand and looking at Jade. He looked back at her, eyes lidded with sleep.

Life in Konoha was slower. They didn’t have to take what they could get when it first flitted by – there would be more to come. And the opportunity would hang around, would come again, would be as constant as the leaves in the trees. Things in Konoha stayed; they didn’t fly by, gone in an instant, never to return.

Shikamaru was used to things being the same, being constant, being there in the background all the time. He was used to people living long lives and moving through the same motions over and over. He was used to a slower life, and it suited him. There was a permanence in Konoha that Suna lacked. A lack of pressure that she couldn’t understand.

“Hey,” she said, shifting a bit to see Jade more clearly.

“Hm?” he tucked his hands behind his head, wincing as he moved his wrist awkwardly.

“What did you mean, by ‘we take what we can get’?”

“Just that. Like, life here is uncertain. We die. I mean . . . you never know when someone is going to be snatched away from you without warning. So waiting for something doesn’t make sense. Because there’s no guarantee it will be there tomorrow.”

She tucked some stray hair behind her ear. “Who are you thinking of, right now?”

“Daimaru,” Jade admitted. “You know, no one ever . . . cared . . . that he never came home. The night before, we’d been here. Just talking. Laughing and joking, because it was a C-rank mission; anyone could have done it. It was simple. No reason to worry. But he died.” Jade closed his eyes. “I lost my best friend and we never saw it coming. We had plans for coming home. He was going to ask you out to dance.”

Temari stayed quiet.

“No one ever talked about him after that. Like his death didn’t matter.”

Suna was like that. They didn’t spend time dwelling on those that had left. They only cared about the living, those of benefit, those who could give something to the world. Sacrifices didn’t matter.

Temari didn’t think she had heard anyone mention Rasa since his death, unless it was in connection to her or her brothers. Life in the desert was a gust of wind – once it passed, no one remembered. No one cared.

But Shikamaru cared. He spoke of his sensei all the time. Fondly, and softly, and Temari knew he visited Asuma’s grave regularly. She had gone with him once or twice.

He was so different. So, so very different from everyone else she had grown up with. And she didn’t know what to do with someone who was different.

Someone who cared.

Someone who let her go, when he had held her solid and immovable within his shadow.

Someone who never once questioned who she was, just took her as she came, just accepted everything about her and never told her to change or be different.

Someone who didn’t try to control her.

“Did you care about Daimaru?” Temari asked.

Jade smiled sadly at her. “Yes. I did.”

She wanted to reply, _So did I_ , but the words stuck. She wasn’t sure how to admit to feelings, and how to empathise, and how to do a lot of things.

_But_ , her mind reminded her, _Shikamaru did._

She ran a hand through her bangs, pushing her hair back slightly, then rolled away from Jade and sat up to gather her clothes.

He didn’t ask her to stay.

 

Ino wasn’t the _last_ person in the world Temari wanted to see, but she was pretty close to the end of the list.

Temari tried not to sigh in resignation at the sight of her – boldly directing a few younger looking shinobi around one of Suna’s greenhouses. And this mission – Konoha sending a team of young shinobi to collect a few of the poisonous plants Suna had been cultivating – was meant to be Kankuro’s problem, until he had been delayed taking a few Academy students on survival training.

Secretly, Temari thought he had done it on purpose, knowing Ino was in charge of the Konoha team.

Matsuri was the genin happily helping direct the shinobi from plant to plant, and for a moment Temari considered leaving her as the team leader and bolting for the open desert before Ino noticed her.

“If you’re going to run, you should have done it sooner.”

“Your mind reading is a pain in the ass.” Temari fully entered the green house. Her arms were crossed over her chest, ready to be defensive.

Ino shook her head slightly, approaching so they could talk quietly. “How are you doing?”

“Doing fine. Why?”

“Well, break ups can be hard. Especially when you aren’t sure why they happened.” Ino studied her. “Like if one person in the relationship is being unreasonably stubborn about something.”

“. . . How is Shikamaru?”

Ino arched one delicate blonde eyebrow. “Well, he was smoking too much, but his dad yelled at him for that. Then he slept too much, and his mom yelled at him for that. Then he wasn’t eating, but Chouji yelled at him for that.”

“What did you yell at him for?”

“For being Shikamaru.” Ino’s expression sobered slightly. “I told him not to contact you, because he shouldn’t have to beg, and he would have. I told him to man up and carry on and stop moping, because life would go on. He was just upset that he might have been wrong about something.”

“. . . Wrong about what?”

“Shikamaru thinks twice and makes decisions once. He thought of every way to be with you, since the day he decided he liked you, and he analysed those feelings to death. Then he reached the decision that you were worth his time because he thought maybe he would have a future with you. When you walked away from him, he thought he had planned his life wrong. That gutted him. He doesn’t take well to making the wrong decision. He’s not great at making mistakes.”

Temari rolled her eyes. “Okay, cut your crap. I get it. I’m a jerk for getting pissed at him.”

“I didn’t say that,” Ino said smoothly. “But since you’ve brought it up – why did you get so mad at Shikamaru?”

“Don’t you have a mission to do?”

Ino smiled thinly. “Anyone could do it. It’s easy. I’m just making sure it gets done on time.” She was boxing Temari in, trying to pin her down to talk.

And Temari knew denying Ino something was near impossible. She was relentless, and didn’t back away from things. With a sigh, Temari raised her head slightly, “Hey, Matsuri!”

“Yes, Princess?” Matsuri’s head shot up from the other side of the greenhouse.

“You’re in charge. Get the mission done.” Temari looked at Ino. “Alright, follow me.”

She turned abruptly, and Ino followed, saying with a warm smile in her words, “They call you ‘Princess’ here?”

“If they want to live.” Temari led her away from the greenhouses. They were clustered near the edge of the village, and Temari took the quickest route to the border wall, scaling it in a matter of seconds until she was standing on the top, with the village spread below her, and the desert stretched out on her other side.

Ino took a moment to admire the view. “Wow. I never thought the desert could look so beautiful.”

Temari sighed. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“I thought that much was obvious,” Ino shrugged. “You and Shikamaru.”

“. . . There isn’t a ‘me and Shikamaru’.”

“Exactly. And that’s a problem.” Ino brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Temari, I get it. You’re easily annoyed, and he’s annoying. But you have a ‘shoot first’ attitude that doesn’t work when it comes to serious matters.” Ino sighed. “I’m not going to tell you to get back together with him, or anything like that. That sort of decision you can make on your own. But I do want to know why you got so mad at him.”

Temari looked at the desert. “Dunno. Just how I am.”

“The problem is,” Ino claimed, “That you spend too much time around men, who think the only way to solve a problem is to hit it with something.”

Temari cocked an eyebrow. “It has worked so far.”

“And how well does it work when it comes to relationships with people?”

Temari hesitated. “Well . . . it’s not like it hasn’t worked . . .”

“If it worked, I wouldn’t have one of my best friends at home in the longest sulk ever. You broke his heart.”

“Then why didn’t he fight back?” Temari asked.

“Because you don’t fight the ones you care about. He isn’t going to fight you on an issue you should be talking about. I don’t need to tell you that you’re an entitled, spoiled brat-“

Temari bristled slightly.

“- Who doesn’t know how to handle being told ‘no’. You can figure that part out yourself. But don’t take that out on Shikamaru – all he wants is to slow down and enjoy the time he spends with you.” Ino sighed again, a heavier sound this time. “Oh, Temari, what sort of things happened to you that you think the only way to get what you want is to fight for it?”

“Life happened,” she said, with a slight defensive growl.

“There’s more than one way to live.”

“Not here.”

“But there’s more to the world than just here, isn’t there? Now you’ve got friends in different parts of the world who want to help you. Now you can think of things like the future, and love, and what you want in life.”

“Who do you talk to about things like this?” Temari asked curiously, because she didn’t think Kankuro would be amused if she sat him down to talk about falling in love.

“My mom.” Ino smiled. “Kurenai-sensei. Sakura. Chouji’s mom, and Shikamaru’s mom.”

“I don’t have anyone like that,” Temari muttered. She stared at the desert, letting the whisper of the wind curl around her. “Never had another woman in my life to talk things through with.”

“You have me,” Ino said softly.

Temari looked at her sharply. She considered that, before finally letting her ready anger die down, and she asked, “What should I do?”

“Well, maybe figure out what you want and how you feel.” Ino thought for a moment. “How have you felt since you left Konoha?”

“Felt pretty sick,” Temari admitted. “Like . . . I don’t know, it lingers. There’s always this horrible feeling when I think of him. But it’s not at him, I don’t think, I’m not angry at Shikamaru. And nothing I do gets him out of my head. I tried. I don’t know, I just feel awful . . .”

“That’ll be guilt,” Ino said brazenly.

Temari sent her a look.

“Don’t look at me like that; I’m not the one who screamed at Shikamaru and stormed out of Konoha in a huff. What would be the ideal solution for you?”

“Going back in time and never shouting at him in the first place.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of guilt.” Ino blinked. “Okay. So, why do you think you yelled at him?”

Temari bit her lower lip, trying to puzzle through her emotions. “Got angry.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what I do.”

“Why?”

Temari cleared her throat awkwardly. “That’s what Dad always did. And every time I did something like him, he was pleased.”

“Oh, _daddy issues_ , that explains so much,” Ino nodded knowingly, breaking into a broad smile when Temari glared at her. “No wonder you like Shikamaru.”

“I _don’t_ have ‘daddy issues’.”

“We’ll address the more pressing ‘boyfriend issues’ first,” Ino said dismissively. “So, what did you gain by getting angry with Shikamaru?”

Temari paused. “Nothing.”

“So maybe,” Ino offered gently, “There’s more than one way to get what you want, and there’s more than one way to interact with people. Whatever you’ve learned and done so far isn’t going to work on Shikamaru. You need to make a change if you want to try things with him again.”

“I don’t know how to be with people,” she muttered. “Never learnt how.”

“Shikamaru knows,” Ino said. “Let him show you.”

“He wants different things to me.” _Maybe_. Part of her loved Shikamaru’s idea of the future. A family. A quiet life. A normal, domestic routine. She had missed out on it, and there was a strange craving within her. Another part of her instantly rejected the idea, because the desert didn’t give things like that. There were tiny bodies strewn across the North desert that proved a family life wasn’t always possible.

“All he wants is for you to give his future a chance. Let him know he wasn’t wrong about you. Let him know the future he planned is possible, if you want it too. Where do you want your future to go?” Ino persisted.

Temari stayed silent. She didn’t have an answer. As a child, she had held fast to the belief that a happy family might be in the future. That she could find someone who would love her. That she could have a happy ending. But growing up had made her doubt that, and she dismissed the idea as whimsical fantasy. It was easy not to face the future, because the future could be cruel.

Ino sounded gentle and understanding when she spoke again. “The future is scary. It’s okay to be uncertain about it. But usually we face those uncertainties with people who mean something to us. To help us discover what we want.” Ino looked searchingly at Temari. “You’re not alone.”

Temari kept her eyes on the dunes.

“You can talk to him about everything. He’ll listen. And he’ll help. That’s what friends do, that’s what partners do. You two can reach some sort of common ground. You just need to give him the chance. And I can promise you, Shikamaru may seem like he doesn’t care, but he does. A lot. He doesn’t do things for no reason, so if he’s decided you’re worth his time you must be the most special person in the world to him.”

“How am I meant to know, though? There wasn’t any big spark, any big defining moment when I thought ‘yeah, this guy, this is more than I’ve felt in the past with other guys’. There hasn’t been anything like that.”

“Because love doesn’t happen in one big moment,” Ino explained. “It grows. It starts out small, and it blooms over time. It gets stronger and stronger.”

Temari swallowed.

“You don’t have to know how you feel right now, and you don’t have to love him. Maybe, that will come later. But I know you feel something for him, or else you wouldn’t be regretting everything you did. So let me ask you: do you want to be with Shikamaru?”

Temari took a moment to think. She knew what life was like without him. And she knew what it was like with him. A future without him seemed . . . dull, somehow. She liked the way he watched her and smiled softly at her. She liked how he listened to her – how he never ran out of patience while she ranted and vented. How he offered sane advice and didn’t judge.

How he held her in his shadow and _let her go_.

“I think I do,” she murmured. And maybe that was the part of the future that terrified her the most. Because wanting to be with him opened up so many questions and so many uncertainties, and she had to give up all control over her future, and she didn’t like to give up control.

“What does love feel like?” she asked curiously, because maybe if she had an idea of what she was searching for, it would be easier to find.

“It’s different things to different people.” Ino sighed, but there was a wistful smile in her breath. “Think about things you love. What do you feel when you think of them?”

Temari fell silent.

The desert was easy. She loved how free and alive it made her feel. The heart racing heat and the wind breathing life into her. The openness that held security, the thick sands that held familiarity. And when she was away, she longed to feel that sand beneath her, and wind in her hair.

Her village was easy, too. That was a deep, dark glow of protectiveness, an instinctive desire to keep it defended from anything. That was a fiery flare of passion, and a natural instinct to keep it safe and well. It fired up when there were threats, when she was away, when she was trying to change things.

Her brothers . . . that was harder to define. Harder to pinpoint. It was so natural, so easy, to know she loved them. She loved them with the all the passion fire of a hurricane, and all the gentleness of a summer breeze, and all the permanence of a desert wind. She loved them stronger than the gales that shook Suna to its foundations, and it felt like a wrap of wind around her – strength and vulnerability, fire and gentle smoulders, pride and soft, soft contentment.

It felt like heat and comfort, the same warmth that kept her alive, something so familiar it was barely noticed, but she was acutely aware of it at the same time.

“It’s complicated,” she finally muttered.

“Yeah. Love is.”

But all those feelings . . . She swallowed. Some were small, some were large, but she felt all that for Shikamaru. The longing when she was away, the security when she was near. The protectiveness over him, the instinctual flare of fire when he was threatened. The fierce hurricane wind that made her want to chase her feelings and desires, and the soft breeze that was the way he looked at her and the long strolls through the village, and the quiet of the night when he was half asleep and completely relaxed.

Maybe that was love. Maybe that was learning to love.

“I’ll talk to him,” she murmured, because she wanted all those feelings back, and she wanted them to banish the thick guilt that had been sludging inside her for days.

“See? That wasn’t so hard was it?” Unannounced, Ino pulled Temari in for a hug – it was natural to tense, to almost pull away, but Ino just moved with Temari, unfazed. “You can figure this out. You just need someone to talk sense into you every once in a while.”

“Thanks,” Temari said, and she genuinely meant it. How easy would life have been growing up with friends like Ino – with friends in general?

“Once this mission is wrapped up,” Ino said, gesturing vaguely back towards the greenhouses. “You can take me out for drinks. I’ve never been in Suna before.”

“Do you like dancing?” Temari asked instantly, perking up at the prospect.

Ino raised one slender eyebrow. “You’d take another girl out dancing? Wouldn’t people get the wrong idea?”

“I’m full of wrong ideas. It’ll be fun, I promise. I know a few good places.” Temari grinned. “We can do upper class or really seedy back alley bar.”

“Both, and you’re on.” Ino winked. “Sounds like fun.”

It did sound like fun. Temari had never taken a girl friend out before.

Mostly, she thought, because she had never really had a friend before.


	36. The Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter that had about a million rewrites and I therefore do not like, but life's like that sometimes.

Shikamaru was not waiting at the gates this time.

That was expected, but nevertheless, her heart dropped a little.

Kotetsu was there – he was often hovering around when she was in Konoha – and he said softly as she arrived, “He’s on the hill.”

“Does he know I’m coming?” She glanced into the village, vaguely in the direction she thought Shikamaru was in. He had dozens of little places he liked to hide, and tracking him down could take a while. At least she only knew of three hills he might be on.

“Someone might have told him,” Kotetsu shrugged. “Good luck.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. With a grateful nod, she moved into the village.

He was on the first hill she checked.

Shikamaru was lying in the grass, staring at the clouds, and didn’t move when she approached him.

She came to his side, looking down at him. He met her eyes briefly, before flicking his gaze to the sun, back to her, and shifting his position slightly. His shadow edged closer to hers, and she recognised the motion as a warning.

She fought the urge to attack first. _He’s just defending himself,_ she reminded herself. _He’s just keeping himself safe._

Because she was dangerous, and he was a fast learner.

“Hi,” she said eventually.

“Hey.” He looked at the clouds again.

She took the opportunity to scrutinize him. His Chuunin vest wasn’t zipped as high as he usually did it, but that was the only visible sign something was not quite right with him. He looked the same, impassive and brooding and difficult to read.

“Ino said you’ve been . . .” She wondered what words to use.

Shikamaru flicked an eyebrow up. “Ino says a lot of things.”

_She says you’re hurting, and I’m the reason, and I’m here to try to make that right._ Temari’s brows furrowed, trying to puzzle over the right words.

“I missed you.” It wasn’t what she had planned to say, and it clearly startled him as well, because Shikamaru’s head snapped towards her, his face falling into the usual frown he had when he was thinking something through and deciding on the best course of action.

After several heartbeats of silence, he admitted cautiously, “I missed you, too.”

“I’m bad at this,” she said, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “I’m bad at talking and being nice.”

He shrugged and said flatly, “I noticed.”

His tone made her heart sink a bit more. “. . . You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“I would say ‘no’,” he eyed her. “But last time I said that, things escalated rather quickly.”

She supposed she deserved that. She let out a heavy sigh. “I . . . I want another chance, if you’ll let me.”

That caught his attention, and he looked searchingly into her eyes. He didn’t say anything, leaving her to mull over how she wanted to explain herself. She had hoped he would go first, give her an idea of what to say, but Shikamaru could be passive-aggressive in his own right, and he wasn’t going to throw her a bone for this.

It was all on her to try to fix things.

“I was wrong,” she started. It felt nauseating to admit fault, made her want to snap the words back, lash out somehow, but she pushed the urge down. She swallowed back the rising bile, and forced herself to continue. “To . . . To pressure you. And get angry at you. And shout at you. And say everything I said.”

She shifted her weight uneasily from one foot to another. “I shouldn’t have said what I said and done what I did. It wasn’t fair to you. And I’m sorry, and I want to learn how to be better for you.” _Fuck_ , that was hard to say, and she had to pause. “I just don’t know where to start. We’re coming from two different places, and I haven’t learnt how to meet you in the middle yet, but I want to try again. I just . . . I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend time with.”

She nearly slipped, nearly said ‘my life’ instead of ‘time’, and the almost confession made her heart race, made the sick feeling in her gut twist tighter.

“You’ve probably been thinking about this for weeks,” she muttered. “So you already know if you want me back or not. And it’ll be the right decision, whatever it is, because you always make the right decision.”

“I make whichever decisions give me the outcome I want,” he said slowly, sitting up. “Doesn’t always mean it’s the right one. Just the one I want to happen.”

“What do you want to happen?”

He shifted again, shadow slipping further away from her, and Temari felt the tension drain out of her.

He stared at the grass. “. . . It’s going to sound stupid, but everything I used to want? Quiet and peaceful and . . . and whatever. I . . . I don’t need that anymore. I can’t get you out of my head. I can’t see a future where you’re not part of my life. I’ve been waiting and waiting, hoping you would come back, and trying to convince myself I’d be okay if you didn’t . . .”

Her throat tightened slightly.

“I’m all in, Temari.” His eyes stayed down, but there was a realness in his tone that cut into her. “I’ve been thinking about this for months, and there isn’t any point in my life that I don’t want you there. I didn’t want to say anything before because I was worried that I’d scare you off . . . but I’ve thought through countless scenarios and countless situations, and . . . and all the ones I like are the ones with you in them.”

Finally, he looked up at her. “I can’t fool myself anymore and pretend you don’t mean the world to me. I know we’ve got a few differences and things to work through, and I know I don’t usually like work or challenges, but,” he bit his lip. “But you’re the kinda challenge I find myself wanting to rise to.”

Well, she reflected, at least one of them had the ability to express their feelings. Her voice was oddly small when she spoke, trying to cover up her sudden, inexplicable surge of emotions, “You’re such a cry baby.”

He smirked at her then; his stupidly alluring grin with his dark eyes and his quiet confidence. “Yeah, I know.” He got to his feet, brushing off invisible dirt and avoiding looking at her. “Anything else you need to say?”

“I slept with Jade,” she admitted, hands clenching into fists, eyes on the ground.

Shikamaru didn’t move. “Who’s Jade?”

“Friend of a friend.”

“Why did you tell me?” Shikamaru asked, an edge of curiosity leaking into his voice. “We weren’t together, it was none of my business who you . . . whatever you do.”

Temari shrugged, not looking at him, but raising her eyes slightly. She caught sight of the trees, kept her gaze on them. “I told you because he wasn’t you. Because I realized I wanted him to be you. I don’t know what that means, but I know I’m happier when we’re together. Even if together means waiting until you’re ready for more.”

The tension deflated from Shikamaru’s shoulders in one sudden move, and he was back in his usual, slouching posture. “. . . Are you sure?”

“You’re good for me,” Temari admitted. She had spent a long time thinking of ways to say this, but even so, the words were hard to find and form. “You ground me. You have a whole different way of life to show me, and I think that’s something I need to try. I feel like it might work for me – if you’ve got the patience to wait for me to learn. And I think it’s time to admit that whatever we have, whatever this is between us,” she hesitated. “It means something. It means a lot. It means that I want to be with you, from now until . . . I just want to be with you. And we can slow down, until you’re ready for more. Months or whatever.”

“Few months,” he agreed absently. Then, “I’m not angry with you.”

“I figured.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Angry at myself, but I’m used to that. I’ll get over it.”

“We should probably talk about that, too,” Shikamaru sighed. “It’ll be troublesome, but maybe we should find a comfy place to sit and figure this all out.”

“You’re . . . really willing to just forgive me and let everything go back to normal?” This was strange. Temari was used to far-reaching consequences and long-held grudges, and endless tension. She was used to a lingering dread after a disagreement, a quiet seething that undermined every action. She was not used to forgiveness. “I pushed you too far, too fast, and you’re okay with that?”

“I’m not okay with it, but getting upset won’t change anything.” That was different. That wasn’t how fights and arguments usually ended. “We can talk it over. We can take our time.”

“I’m not great at taking my time with things,” she muttered.

“There’s no benefit to rushing through life,” he offered carefully.

“It’s all I know,” she said softly.

Shikamaru looked like he was thinking hard. Eventually, he heaved a sigh, and held out a hand, “Come here.”

He pulled her close, turned her to look down the hill at the village, and let her hand go to place himself behind her, hands on her shoulders to hold her steady.

“Look,” he said, chin against her temple. “Just look at the village. Look at everything.”

Temari made a rapid-fire assessment. “Yeah, I see it. People, buildings.”

“Too quick,” he said. “Look slower.”

“That isn’t a thing.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened a bit. “Stop looking at everything like you’re a whirlwind-“

“Hurricane,” she corrected gently.

“Yeah. That. Just . . . Slow down. Look for longer.” He paused for a moment. “See anything different?”

“Same village.”

“Nah, it’s not.” He smiled. “See how the flowers move slightly? That’s from the gentle breeze you can feel against your skin. Not enough to move the grass, but enough to move the flowers. Look at that bee gathering pollen. Look at the trees, look at the shapes the leaves make. Like clouds. Look at the bird sitting on that rooftop, look at those two people walking hand in hand, and look at how they wander. It’s okay,” he said, voice dropping low, “to slow down sometimes. It’s okay to take your time. It’s okay to be a gentle breeze, and not always a hurricane.”

Life wasn’t slow, though. Life wasn’t something to be savoured. It was something to run through at breakneck speed, and tackle headfirst.

“We don’t need to rush,” he added. “We don’t need to be in a hurry to do anything.”

She fell silent for a few minutes, just staring at the view. She had never noticed before, but there were different coloured flowers in the grass around. She had always thought they all looked the same. But there were pinkish ones scattered between the white and blue, and a few yellow ones.

Being still was . . . oddly peaceful. There was so much to see. From the way birds dotted the sky, to the way the roads wound through the village, to the people going about their lives.

“You don’t look at much in your village, do you?” Shikamaru asked, voice sounding lightly curious.

“I look for threats. I look for things that could harm me, and then I deal with them.” Men, shadows, people at her back.

Shikamaru was all three, and yet she didn’t feel as though she needed to do anything about it. She leant back into his warmth.

“I look at the desert,” she added. Because there was security there. The deadly open sands were home, were something she knew and something she loved. That was home, rolling golden hills and blazing sun, and the constant wind.

When Shikamaru stayed quiet, it became apparent that Temari going to have to be the one to start the conversation she didn’t want to have. She didn’t beat about the bush. “We need to talk about us.”

Shikamaru leant a bit heavier on her shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”

“If this is going anywhere, we need to talk about it. Because I don’t have the luxury of just choosing what I want in life; I’ve got a council at home breathing down my neck about getting married, and . . .” And happy endings weren’t made for people like her. “Shikamaru, this is only going to get harder.”

He let his hands slide down her arms, hands covering her own and entwining their fingers. “I know.”

“So?” She shook off his grip, turning to face him. “Are you really prepared to take on Suna’s higher ups, just so that you and I can have a shot at this?”

“What do I need to do?” he asked, quiet conviction in his tone.

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to them first.” She pressed against him. His arms wrapped naturally around her waist. “But Shikamaru . . . They might say no. You and I . . . might not have a chance to be anything.”

“Hm,” he shrugged, as though it wasn’t a big deal and it didn’t mean anything, but she could feel the slight shudder that ran through him, “It’s worth the risk.”

She pulled him down, hands linked behind his neck, to kiss him firmly, and try to convince herself that everything would work out.

It turned out they didn’t have time to even think about themselves.

Within a month, all five nations were coming together to engage in a war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter being uploaded, all but two chapters until the end of this story have had their first draft written. This means that, barring anyone at work or in my personal life doing something exceedingly stupid, I will be uploading a chapter every 3-4 days until the end of this story. So, yay, we're back on schedule.


	37. What Happens Next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting for this chapter to come up. The last scene is one of the first ones I wrote for this story and probably my favourite, and we've finally reached it : D

They didn’t see each other until the Fourth Great Ninja War, and even then, she had more pressing matters to focus on than him. ‘They’ took a backseat as the world imploded, and there were bigger things to acknowledge and deal with. There was a world to rebuild, there was the aftermath to sort through, there was life getting in the way.

It was months afterwards, once her emotions had settled even if life hadn’t, that she sought him out on a personal visit to Konoha, suddenly realizing that she desperately missed time with him.

She missed the conversations, and the laughs. She missed how he watched her, and sighed loudly when she teased him. She missed his smug smile and his dry humour and his shadow eyes. She missed his kisses and sitting next to him on grassy hilltops. She missed him, all of him, and it felt like it meant something profound. She just didn’t know what.

But she knew that life wasn’t the same without him, that no matter what happened she needed to have him around her. That even in the turmoil following a war and the endless work that had followed, he had never once left her thoughts.

He looked older and wearier when they met up, and she was so proud of who he was becoming. He was dependable, indispensable in his village, and unequivocally a man now. She didn’t have the words to tell him how much he meant and how proud she was, so instead she dragged him back to the hotel she was staying at, systemically shedding clothing off them both, and this time he didn’t protest.

She pressed him down on his back on her bed, reassuring that it was okay when his hands shook where he gripped her hips, nervous was fine, they could work with that, and she took the lead and showed him exactly what she wanted. Whispered encouragement and for once tender thoughts, delighted just to be near him, and coaxed him into gentle kisses and even gentler caresses. And it was afterwards, when he lay against her back, one hand brushing idly against her stomach, his breathing slowing down to sleep, that she wondered what happened next.

What now, with him warm against her skin and even warmer in her heart? What now, when they lived miles apart, but wanted so much to be close?

What now, with everything she had back home and everything he had here in Konoha?

Where did they go from here, from this point in time, when she couldn’t fool herself any longer and call this a fling, just for fun, just because. She ached when they were apart, she felt his absence and their distance. They _needed_ each other.

And their lives had to go somewhere, and she didn’t know where. She stared at his hand as his fingers stilled against her belly. The moonlight threw a shadow across her lightly tanned skin. His shadow, over her, and she felt so safe in it. So, so safe, with him touching her, and her in his shadow, and his breath against her hair.

_What now?_ She thought, twisting around to face him, to watch him sleep. She had a big question in her mind, and she didn’t know what the answer was supposed to be.

Where did they go from here?

 

The trip to Konoha was unexpected – Gaara had sent her the message while she was returning from another mission elsewhere, and she had made the detour. Shikamaru wasn’t there to greet her at the gates, and the guards on duty let her know he was away but due to return soon. It disappointed her more than she would care to admit, set her on edge because these little snippets of time they were able to catch between missions and life were what fuelled her in the weeks and months between.

She stomped through Konoha in a huff, meeting the Hokage, trying to get through her meetings without sounding hostile, but she was on edge and upset and she wasn’t sure why.

By the time she returned to her hotel, still feeling uncharacteristically out of sorts, her lower abdomen had started to ache, and she groaned, recognising the pain. _Right_. That time of month again.

“The fuck are my pills,” she muttered. Between travelling and new places, she might have missed a few days. It hadn’t seemed important, since she had been on her way home. Then it occurred to her – hadn’t she missed the last couple days because she had run out?

“Shit,” she muttered, upending her entire bag onto the bed. A quick scramble through her things confirmed what she already knew – she had run out of her pain pills (Her ‘anti-bitchy pills’, Kankuro called them). “Oh, come on, I thought I had spares.”

She sighed, mentally calculating how long she needed to be in Konoha for. Wouldn’t it be just brilliant to spend the entire time stuck in bed unable to move? She sat down on the edge of her bed, cursing internally. She should be okay for the rest of the day. She had a few hours, at least, before things really started getting interesting.

“I hate my life,” she muttered, flopping onto her back carelessly. After glaring at the ceiling, she sat up again, and threw things around until she found a blank scroll. She scribbled a message to Kankuro explaining her situation – _Send my damn pills, I ran out and shit’s getting real over here_ – and sealed the scroll, addressed it to Gaara so it would be seen to as quickly as possible, and made her way moodily to Konoha’s messenger tower.

It occurred to her to just ask for the nearest healer, but her pride stopped her. She wasn’t going to ask random strangers for help. She could barely ask her family for help. Admitting weakness wasn’t allowed, and she would suffer in silence rather than get anyone else involved.

Her walk back to the embassy was slower, with rolling waves of pain starting to escalate. She was biting her lip by the time she returned to her room, arms folded across her stomach in the futile hope that warmth and pressure would help. Tea would be nice. Warm, and soothing, and effortless to drink.

She made it all the way to the couch before giving up and lying down, figuring she could stagger the rest of the way to kitchen when the rolling pain had faded. She had been lying on the couch for what felt like an entire day, but probably wasn’t more than a few hours, before there was a soft knock at her door.

_Great_ , she thought. _Company. Just what I needed_.

“Go away!” she shouted, hoping that would scare off whoever was trying to bother her.

It did not. The door opened, and Shikamaru raised an eyebrow when he caught sight of her.

She did her best to glare at him. He didn’t look intimidated.

“Are you sick?” he asked quietly, kneeling down next to her.

“I’m not sick,” she growled, and she wanted to sit up and shout at him but her abdomen cramped once more, and she bit down hard on her lip to stop a whimper.

Shikamaru looked at her for a moment, utterly silent, before he straightened up and walked away. Temari heard the door open and close, and she let out a sigh of relief that he was gone. It was easier to suffer without him.

She groaned, low and painfilled, and curled into a tighter ball on the couch. It would take at least a day for Gaara to get the message. And probably another day to get one back to her. So she still had two days of this agony before she could do anything about it.

She was lying on her back and counting dots on the ceiling when she heard the door open again.

“Piss off,” she snapped, uncaring of who it might be. Let it be the Hokage, for all she cared.

“Troublesome,” came the reply, and Temari rolled onto her side again, staring in disbelief as Shikamaru came to kneel beside the couch again. He placed a small paper packet on the table near her head. “I’ll help, if you don’t hit me.”

“What?” she blinked at him.

“Think I don’t know what going on?” He gave her the most unimpressed look she had ever seen on him, and he had a lot of them. “Ino bitches constantly. And given I know you’re tougher than she is, I have to assume you have it a lot worse than her, because even she just grumbles a little.”

Temari flinched back when Shikamaru traced a line down the centre of her belly with one finger, then stopped a few inches past her navel, and pressed gently.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Ordinarily, he would have been lucky to have got as close as he was while she was moody and in pain, but she lacked the energy to retaliate.

“I’m not good at medical jutsu. But surely they teach acupressure in Suna?”

“. . . No.”

Shikamaru clicked his tongue, flicking his eyes to hers, still keeping his finger pushed into her belly. “Really? No one there ever said ‘Hey, when half your population can’t move or work if you just press this point here it’ll help relieve the pain’?”

“. . . No?”

“Troublesome.” Shikamaru looked away again. “How long has it been like this?”

“Always,” she admitted. “I take medication for it. I ran out.”

He indicated vaguely to the packet near her head. “Yeah, I’ve got stuff for you.”

“You _what_?”

“Keep your finger here,” he ordered, guiding her hand to where his had been. “For five minutes. I’m making tea – my mom has a special blend that will help. Ino says it’s a lifesaver.”

Still reeling from Shikamaru’s concern, Temari obeyed without question. She shifted a bit onto her back as he left her, and she could hear him shuffling around in the small kitchenette. To her relief, the pressure in her abdomen was relieving. It was comforting and irritating – all it took was poking her finger below her navel; why the hell had no one told her that before?

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked eventually, craning her head back to try to get a glimpse of him. She heard him snort softly.

“A man’s supposed to take care of a-“

“Don’t finish that sentence unless you want me to kill you,” she warned.

Silence. Then, slightly more tentative, “Just helping you out, I guess?”

She fell silent then, until he appeared in front of her once more, kneeling down to place a little mug of tea on the table. She watched the steam curl off it.

“Let it cool for a minute,” Shikamaru said. He sat down, staring at her with a bored expression. “How long are you in Konoha for?”

“Couple days. If I survive that long.”

He snorted softly. “It’d be troublesome if something happened to you, so I guess I could stay for a bit until you’re feeling better.”

That sounded awful. She didn’t need witnesses to her agony. “You don’t have to.”

“Better than being anywhere else,” he shrugged. “Ino just complains a lot and my mom nags me to do things all the time and the Hokage is always inventing new tasks for me.”

She didn’t want him there. She was vulnerable, defences low, and she didn’t need him around and ready to take advantage of her with anything. She bristled. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She blinked. That wasn’t the answer she had been expecting.

“Guess I just want to hide somewhere for a bit. My mission was tiring. I probably need a nap.” He shrugged. “Scoot over.”

“No! Go somewhere else.” She growled, “You’re not getting near me.”

He didn’t look intimated by her, and that only made her anger flare higher. She gritted her teeth, wondering if she had the strength to kick him flying across the room. Before she could try, he placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady, and effortlessly slid onto the couch behind her.

“Hey,” she snapped. “I didn’t say you could-“

“Shh,” he said, settling down. His hand slid to her belly, one finger pressing lightly down. The rest of him was warm and welcome.

Temari’s whole body locked tensely, hideously uncomfortable with her own vulnerability.

Shikamaru seemed unconcerned. She could feel him breathing lightly on the back of her head, utterly relaxed. And the pain in her abdomen was easing off. It didn’t feel as bad. It felt . . . nice, actually. It was like the nights when she was younger that she and Kankuro had spent together, just the two of them, enjoying being side by side and content.

She pressed her back into his chest, smiling when he huffed slightly, and his arm held her more firmly against him.

The pain wasn’t as bad as she remembered.

 

She was ready to leave Konoha when Shikamaru sought her out as she left the Hokage building.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded, unsure what else to add. She still felt awkward and vulnerable, but he seemed relaxed and composed.

“Walk with me?” he asked, falling into step at her side, hands shoved in his pockets. “If you’re not in a hurry.”

“I’m not.” She had time to waste. She always had time to waste around him.

There were mostly silent as they walked. He took her through new streets, until the village became less busy, and trees started to block her view.

“Where are we going?” Temari asked.

“Bit further out,” Shikamaru said casually. “I’m taking you to the forest.”

He continued walking without looking back, expecting she would follow. She hesitated, then started after him. It made her slightly nervous, following him amongst the trees. Every second step she was walking in another shadow, and old habits die hard. She didn’t like being in them. She didn’t like thinking about how powerful his hold was. Not after he had just seen her at her weakest.

He seemed not to notice her agitation, leading her effortlessly through narrow winding paths and between trees, until they came upon a slight clearing. There was a lake there, the water misty blue. Grass and reeds surrounded it, and half of it was dappled shade, the other half in full sun.

“It’s pretty,” she observed, looking around. She startled slightly when a deer rushed past, and Shikamaru chuckled.

“They do that sometimes. Ignore them.” He went to the edge of the lake. “It’s nice to swim here. Ino used to drag me and Chouji here all the time after missions in summer. Wanna swim?”

“No,” she answered. Something in the way she said that single word must have grabbed his attention, because he looked back at her strangely.

“What?” she asked, fighting to keep the defensiveness from her tone.

“Nothing.” He looked her up and down. “You answered oddly.”

“I answered with one word, what’s odd about that?”

“Wait,” Shikamaru said, and Temari could see from the way he was trying not to smile that he had figured it out already. “You can’t swim.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so you can swim?” His dark eyes shone with mischief.

She clenched both fists in an effort not to punch him as hard as she could, unwilling to answer.

“We’ve got all day. I’ll teach you.”

She sniffed, jerking her head away. “No.”

If he smirked like that for much longer she was going to drown him.

“You look like you want to kill me.”

“Because I do,” she retorted. “I’ll leave your body in the lake.”

He snorted, unimpressed, and pulled his shirt over his head, toeing his sandals off. “Come on. I won’t let you drown.”

She hesitated.

“It’ll be fine, I promise.” He walked confidently to the centre of the lake, on top of the water. “You can walk on the water, right?”

“Of course I can,” she snapped. “It’s a perfectly basic shinobi skill.”

He held up in his hands. “I was just checking, don’t get excited.”

She stared him down, weighing her options. After a long silence, she sighed, and untied the obi from around her waist. Shikamaru’s expression changed slightly. “I’m wearing shorts and a tank top underneath, don’t get excited,” she mocked.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Wasn’t.”

She dropped her kimono on the grass, shedding her sandals next and walking out to meet him in the centre of the water. “Okay. Now what?”

Shikamaru placed her hands on his shoulders, and his hands under her arms. He pulled her close, smiling down at her with an expression that was somehow smug and tender.

“Release your chakra,” he instructed. “I won’t let you fall. I’m holding you.”

It took an immense amount of will power to listen to him. It was counter instinctual, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to let go of anything, especially not him. But he looked so calm that she decided to risk it, and dispelled her chakra in one tense second, preparing for the fall.

She didn’t fall far, because Shikamaru was holding her firmly. But her toes dipped below the surface of the water, and she instinctively tightened her grip on him.

“Ready?” Shikamaru asked, amusement audible in his voice.

She was about to say ‘no’, because being on water without chakra to hold her up was very unnerving, when Shikamaru suddenly released his own chakra and they plunged into the water. The splash, thankfully, covered up her shriek of alarm.

“Shikamaru, what the _flying fuck_?” she screamed at him the moment she had gathered her wits. Her heart was racing, panicked by the sudden sensation of cold, fingers digging into his shoulders as water swirled around them. It was terrifyingly close to her face.

“Relax,” he said calmly, and she would have slapped him if she’d had the courage to let him go. “I’ve got you.”

And he did; they were floating serenely. She could feel him kicking lazily at the water to keep their heads above the surface. He made it seem so effortless, while she was a panicking mess in his arms.

“That’s it,” she said, “I’m getting out.” She gathered her focus, only to be stopped by Shikamaru kissing her softly. She froze in place.

“Stay,” he said simply, pulling away and gazing at her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Shikamaru, it’s cold and it’s too close to my face and-“ And drowning was a very real possibility. She couldn’t touch the bottom of the lake, and that was freaking her out. Every shinobi and survival instinct she had screamed to get back on the surface.

“You’re safe,” he replied nonchalantly. “Trust me.”

But she shouldn’t, because nothing in her life so far had indicated trusting him was a good idea. There was an internal flare of protest – _Trust him?_ Definitely not; he was a man, who had her completely at his mercy, and she needed to get out of the situation, to get control back again.

“You’re so troublesome,” he sighed, as if reading her mind. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He tipped back a bit, mostly floating, letting his head rest against the water. She stayed laid half over his chest, legs dangling in the water. She could feel the muscles in his stomach tighten. It was taking effort to hold them both up, but he wasn’t going to admit it. Cautiously, she moved her legs.

His eyes flicked to hers. “Helping?”

“Trying to.” She felt a bit more secure with him under her chin, a barrier between the water and her face.

He floated them placidly around. They passed under the shadow of a tree branch, and Temari tensed. In a shadow. With Shikamaru. In the stupidly vulnerable position of being in the water.

“S’fine,” he said drowsily.

She didn’t relax. “You said you’d teach me. Not just float around doing nothing.”

He muttered under his breath, but tipped his body upright, easily catching Temari before she could sink any further. She moved instinctively closer to him, arms around his neck. “Firstly, you’re never going to get anywhere hanging onto me. I’m not going to let you drown, so get some distance and relax.”

“Neither of those things seems very likely.”

To Temari’s indignation, he chuckled at her unease. “Come on,” he pried her hands off his neck. “I’ll hold you up.”

Gently, he pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length, somehow ignoring the way her nails dug into his forearms. “There. Now, just move your legs.”

“Do not let me go under,” Temari said sharply.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Shikamaru replied nonchalantly, moving effortlessly backwards, dragging her along. Tentatively, Temari kicked her legs. The resistance was weird. It made her feel sluggish and nervous, not that Shikamaru was ever going to know that.

He drifted them around for a bit, watching her carefully.

“Can I let you go?” he asked.

“Don’t you dare.”

He smirked at her. “Scared?”

“No,” she denied vehemently. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Okay.” He glided backwards through the water, towing her along.

He stopped after a moment, standing still, and Temari blinked. She tried to reach for the bottom of the lake, finding it frustratingly out of reach.

“You ass. You’re standing, aren’t you?”

“Not my fault you can’t reach the bottom,” Shikamaru shrugged. “It gets shallower to my left, if you wanna swim there.” He stood, water just below his shoulders, smirking at her.

Temari considered her options, before shaking her head, and pulling herself closer to him. She hooked her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and gave up on swimming.

“Hold me,” she demanded.

“I _am_ , why are you so bossy all the time?”

She declined to answer, instead taking the time to look around. It was a beautiful clearing, and she was going to savour it. There were no places like this in the desert, and while she had grown used to Konoha’s endless forests, this was different and unique and stunningly beautiful.

She suddenly noticed the way he was staring at, looking absolutely awed, as though she was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

“What?” she asked, not as harshly as she had intended.

He shook his head, “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

He sighed. “You’re so troublesome. Fine, I was just . . . Just thinking.”

“I’d be shocked if you weren’t thinking.”

He ran a hand through her hair, voice dropping low, “I was thinking I love you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone looking for unsolicited, anecdotal advice on the internet, the acupressure points two and four finger widths below the navel do help some women with period cramps, so, use that how you will.


	38. I Want To Say I Love You

_I think I do, too. I think I do, but I don’t know if I should._

Temari caught up to the caravan escort team, as they crossed the Wind country’s border, ready and hoping for an attack on the team. Fighting was easy, fighting was familiar, and she decimated the bandits and their attempted caravan raid. She let herself get lost in the violence, let herself fall into the familiarity of being a warrior.

_I think I do_ , she thought again, mind on the faraway forests and Shikamaru’s quiet confession, but there was a fear that came with the thought.

Because they had just lived through a war, just watched people die, just lost those that they loved. And was it worth it, to open oneself up to that again?

Love was dangerous, and while she had never been afraid of danger, she was afraid of losing Shikamaru.

 

Kankuro found her eventually, hours out of Suna, standing in the setting sun with the dunes around her shifted in all directions, and sweat dripping off her.

“Temper tantrum, or rigorous training?” he asked casually, coming to stand beside her.

Temari leant an elbow on her fan, still catching her breath. “Just . . . working through some stuff.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

She looked at the far away horizon, where the sun was disappearing. “Shikamaru said he loves me.”

Kankuro tensed slightly. “Ah. What did you say?”

“Didn’t say anything.” She tracked the lines of sand with her eyes, out of habit. The familiarity was comforting. “Didn’t know what to say. Or what I feel.”

Kankuro stayed quiet.

“The war just . . . changed things.” It had changed a lot. It had changed her, and Shikamaru. It had strengthened his feelings and made her doubt hers, because life could be snatched away so easily, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to allow herself to be put in such a vulnerable position. Once you loved someone, you feared losing them, and she couldn’t stand to lose Shikamaru.

“Do you love him?” Kankuro asked, voice oddly subdued.

“I think I might.” She didn’t know if she loved him, but she absolutely wanted to be with him, and that was terrifying.

She didn’t know if she could catch up to what Shikamaru so clearly felt – emotions came easily to him. Too easily, at times, and sometimes she felt like she had missed out on being human, because she couldn’t keep up with everything he felt, and she had never been taught how. But fighting alongside him through the war, watching him and marvelling at the way he handled everything, had cemented the idea that she wanted, _needed_ , him in her life, one way or another.

But how did that work, with him three days away, and her in the middle of a desert, and no foreseeable way to forge a life together, and the paralysing fear that he was a weakness now, he was something she couldn’t bear to lose, and that was not okay for a warrior.

Kankuro shifted in place, scanning the dunes, as though looking for answers.

“I don’t know if I love him, but I love being with him. The way he looks at me, and the way he makes me feel. But that won’t matter, will it?” she sighed. “Because this is my life, this is my world. This desert. Shikamaru isn’t something that I’ll ever be able to have; we know the council won’t allow it. And we’re too far apart, and it’s never going to work.”

Maybe, if she made enough excuses to herself, she would stop wanting him. Because there was no future with them together. None that she could see. And maybe it would be better to end things now, so all future decisions could be made with a clear idea of where her life was going.

But _please, please no_. She wanted everything to work out, but the practical side of her didn’t want to get her hopes up. The desert snatched dreams away too easily. Wars took lives like they meant nothing. It would be stupid to get too comfortable with the idea of a happy life, with the idea of him. It was stupid to fall in love because the world was violent and cruel, and she had to be, too.

And her mother had died and left her father alone and longing, and she didn’t know if she could bear to live through that as well.

“You talk about him differently,” Kankuro mumbled.

“What?” she turned her expression to Kankuro, brow furrowed.

“You don’t talk about anyone else like you do about him,” Kankuro shrugged, eyes on the sand. “You know . . . when you talked about Daimaru it was mostly what you could make him do. Whatever it is you do with Jade-“

“Who told you about that?” Temari asked sharply.

“Jade did. Obviously – oh calm down, he isn’t telling everyone. It just came up-“

“ _How?_ ”

“- And with Laini, well, come on, that was just physical. You didn’t really care about anything else about him.”

Temari opened her mouth to argue, but decided it wasn’t worth it. She stayed quiet.

“But when you come back from Konoha, you look different.” Kankuro heaved a sigh. “Like he means a lot more to you than you want to admit. You talk like he’s different. I would guess, if you talk like he’s special, then he probably is.” He met her eyes earnestly. There was a little crease of worry between his brows that she was used to seeing on Gaara.

“But then what?” she asked. “We can’t be together. After the war, everything is falling apart, and there isn’t time for things like . . .” Things like love. Things like gentle lives and idealistic families. Things like three kids without a mother, and a father who didn’t know how to help them because he had his own problems, and she didn’t want to repeat the cycle that had shaken her.

And she was working too hard, and Shikamaru was working too hard, and they hadn’t been able to see each other as regularly as they used to, and she felt that deep inside her. It felt like a void that she needed to fill. The constant conflict – _I want him, but I don’t want to take a chance on loving him_ – was exhausting.

Kankuro hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to tell you.” He sat quietly for a moment, before adding, “Hang on, you said you just left without answering him?”

“Pretty much. I was on my way out, anyway.”

“Kid’s probably dying of suspense,” Kankuro pointed out.

Probably. He would be over thinking and over analysing. He would be holed up somewhere, avoiding everyone, probably chain smoking to calm his nerves, and working through impossible scenarios, and he wouldn’t be sleeping, because Shikamaru couldn’t settle if he had a problem on his mind. He’d be worrying himself sick, and it was her fault, and he’d be ignoring his friends and work, and probably brushing off anyone’s attempts to talk to him.

“I have to go back,” she sighed. “Talk to him again. Let him know I . . . fuck, I don’t know. That I want him, I want to be with him, and I don’t know if that’s love, but, well . . . it’s something.” And let him know that it worried her, that it frightened her, that the future was murky and uncertain. That sometimes she wanted to baulk away from these feelings, and what did he think of that? Of her doubt? Would it bother him, that he was lightyears ahead of her when it came to them, while she was still floundering.

“Then?” Kankuro raised his chin slightly.

“Then tell Gaara that Shikamaru and I are a thing.”

“Pretty sure he knows already.”

“Yeah. But he hasn’t said anything because he knows as soon as he does the council is going to flip.” She groaned, imagining it. “As soon as the council knows, it’s political,” she growled slightly. “Then it doesn’t get to be about me anymore, then it’s all ‘oh, how can we exploit this relationship to benefit Suna’ and ‘There are other people to date who are more politically informed and you shouldn’t be messing around with some no name kid when you could be helping your village even if it’ll piss you off for all eternity’.”

“Spot on impression.” Kankuro narrowed his eyes at her. “Tem. He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?” He seemed oddly fixated on that detail, and Temari wondered why.

She couldn’t help it, she smiled at the mere thought of him. It softened the doubt in her stomach, just a bit. “Yeah. He means a lot to me. More than anyone else has before.”

There was a strange, warm feeling in her chest when she thought about him, that she couldn’t name and didn’t understand. It was fluttery and light, but somehow grounding and solid at the same time. And it made her ache, because she knew she was going to have to let it go at some point, when responsibility took over and her duty to her village interfered.

Kankuro looked down, face falling into a frown. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but stayed quiet.

“He sees something in me,” she murmured, looking at the dunes. The sky was darkening now, the stars peeping out, and her sweat-soaked skin was rapidly beginning to cool.

“What is it?” Kankuro asked, shifting a bit closer to her.

“I don’t know. Never asked him. It’s not a question I want answered.”

“Think it’s something good?”

Temari snorted. “He’d be the first to see good in me, then.”

“That’s not true,” Kankuro nudged her with a shoulder. “You know you’re good.”

But good enough to figure out a life with Shikamaru? Good enough to know what love was, good enough to have the courage to face it and confess to it?

“What’re you gonna do?” Kankuro asked.

“. . . I’ve got to go past the Estate in a few days to meet with the daimyo,” she mused. “I guess I can head to Konoha from there to talk to him.” She slid her fan closed, preparing to head back to the village.

“Temari?” Kankuro asked, in a small voice. He stared out at sky. “What are you going to tell him?”

“What?”

“He said he loved you. What are you going to tell him?” He chanced looking at her.

“That I don’t know how this kind of love works, but I’d like to stay with him, and maybe learn.” There was a flicker of nervousness in her stomach. She shouldn’t have left him so abruptly. That wasn’t what you did with people you cared about. And she cared about him so much that she had to let him know that maybe, possibly, things weren’t going to work out, and this beautiful honeymoon romance might have to end abruptly.

It was better to be prepared for the worst. The war had taught her that.

She hoisted her fan onto her back, turning to walk home.

“Do you love me?”

She stopped dead. “Of course I do. Always.”

He was still watching the sky.

“Kankuro,” she returned to his side, looking searchingly at his face. “What’s the matter? Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered with a shrug. “. . . Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

She was worried now. “Kankuro?”

“We haven’t spent much time together, lately,” he observed. “Both been working hard.”

“Yes,” she agreed cautiously. She reached an arm out towards him, entwining their fingers, and he squeezed her hand. “Would you like us to spend more time together?”

“Yes.” He tugged her hand lightly, encouraging her to start walking home. “Might be nice to get things back to normal again.”

It would be. Things were shaky and undefined, and since the war she had been in and out the village constantly, settling issues and working on treaties.

They crossed the thick sand side by side, moving at a leisurely, unhurried pace.

“Gonna let me go anytime soon?” she asked after a while, swinging their joined hands slightly.

“Nah,” Kankuro grinned. “Gotta keep you out of trouble. Besides,” his expression sobered, voice lowering, “Wouldn’t want anything to get between us.”

 

The meetings at the daimyo’s Estate were routine, and didn’t take long. Temari was used to them by now, could get things done swiftly and efficiently. Afterwards, she had a pleasant dinner with the daimyo, Laini and his wife, and once the sun had gone down and the heat had faded into a pleasantly cool evening, she went out onto one of the large balconies to look at the stars.

The desert was visible, grasslands and trees changing into endless, gorgeous sand, all silver lines lit by the moon.

She glanced behind her when she heard someone approach.

Laini held up two glasses of champagne as an explanation. “Care for a drink?”

“Is it sweet champagne?”

“Of course. You don’t like the dry one.”

“Ah, you remembered.” She took the offered glass, studying the bubbly liquid for a moment.

Laini came to stand at her side by the railing.

“Is it really a good idea for the two of us to be alone with alcohol involved?” Temari asked, touching her glass lightly to Laini’s.

“I figure we should be mature enough to control ourselves by now,” Laini replied with a shrug. He sipped his champagne thoughtfully, then asked, “How have you been?”

“Okay, I guess. What about you?”

“Can’t complain.” He looked sideways at her. “I miss you.”

She smiled. “You see me all the time.”

“Not in the same way we used to.”

“No. I guess not.” She leaned a bit harder on the balcony railing, looking at the stars.

“I was an idiot,” Laini eventually said, with a hollow, humourless laugh. “I should have done everything I could to convince you to marry me.”

She watched him curiously.

“At least then I know I would have liked having you around. Maybe life wouldn’t have been so . . . dull. Difficult. I should have tried harder with you.”

“Being talked into things I don’t want isn’t something I’m good at,” she said slowly. “I would never have agreed to it.”

“It would have been a beautiful life, though,” Laini sighed. He nodded to himself, expression rueful. He cleared his throat, shaking his thoughts off. “So, what about you? Anyone special?”

Unbidden, a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. She ducked her head down, trying to hide her expression, and the stupid flush of heat that accompanied thoughts of Shikamaru. “Uh, yeah, actually . . . A shinobi from Konoha.”

“Are you happy with him?”

“Yes. I am.” She pushed her bangs back, trying to push away that flutter that unsettled her so much.

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I hope I do. I’m not sure what that’s supposed to feel like and what it means.”

“What does he feel?”

“Too much, actually. He’s a sensitive one. Cares a lot about everyone and everything.”

“Sounds like exactly what you need,” Laini said. “Someone to care about you.”

_Probably_. But it didn’t make understanding her feelings any easier. “I don’t know how I’m meant to know if he’s the one or not. I don’t want to string him along or anything like that. He’s not fooling around, he’s all in, but I don’t know if I am.” She was. But admitting that still hurt, and she was quick to deny it, because she had to be prepared for the possibility of losing him.

She looked to Laini, and he looked back at her.

“Let it happen. Just . . . stay with him and let life do its thing.” Laini smiled tenderly at her. “Love isn’t hard to understand. If you feel like you belong with him, you probably do. Don’t wait. Don’t regret anything.”

“Do you know what love feels like?” she asked.

“I know what regret feels like. I know what it’s like to wake up every morning knowing the person you love won’t love you back, and even if they did, you wouldn’t have a chance with them. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’ve fallen in love with someone else. Because you missed your chance. Because you didn’t try hard enough and you’ll regret that every day for the rest of your life. And now all you have are small moments when they come around, and they’re bittersweet moments.”

Temari studied the deep blue of his eyes. “Would it help if they stopped coming over and making life harder all the time?”

“No,” Laini answered, not breaking eye contact. “It wouldn’t. Because sometimes they’ll stay for a drink and a nice chat, and then you feel happy for a moment.”

She fell silent, eyes back on the stars.

“Are you going to go and see him now?”

“Yeah. Heading to Konoha in the morning.” Temari sipped her drink. “I want to love him. I’m just not sure how to know if I do.”

“Just feel. Just . . . don’t think too hard about it. Let it happen.”

“I’m trying. I don’t have the patience for this.” It was frustrating when she was away from Shikamaru, and oddly peaceful when she was with him. She didn’t know what that meant.

“Is he important to you?” Laini asked.

“Yes. Definitely. Feels like the whole world is different when I’m with him. Every moment lasts longer and everything is better. He’s always on my mind, and as soon as I’ve left him I can’t wait to see him again.”

“That,” Laini said, with a soft, remorseful smile, “Sounds like love.”

“Maybe,” Temari agreed. She finished her drink, then looked at Laini again. “I worry, about losing him. I worry that I’ll let myself love him, and something will happen, and I don’t know if I can handle that. I’ve seen too many people die without warning to believe it won’t happen again.”

He looked away first. “Temari . . . Just do it. Just let yourself be happy. Because even if you lose him,” he reached a hand out, gently brushing her bangs back from her face. “You’ll still have spent some time with him. And that might not feel like enough. But it will help. It will be worth it.”

“Was it worth falling in love with someone only to have them walk away?”

“Always. It was always worth it.” He stepped back, letting his hand fall to his side. “Be patient with him, and yourself. There’s no deadline for love.” He held back a sigh, studying the forest green in her eyes, and added softly, “You’re not something that should be rushed.”


	39. Maybe

Shikamaru hadn’t been expecting her to visit, so she had the pleasure of barging into his room and startling him awake.

He bolted upright in a flailing of limbs and blankets, taken by surprise at her sudden presence, “What the – what – who –“

“I don’t how to love you, but I want you to be patient and let me learn.”

“Temari,” Shikamaru settled, sitting upright and scrubbing a hand across his face. “What the hell is going on?”

“I’m trying to figure this out.” She stood in the middle of his room, watching him carefully. She wasn’t _nervous_ , but she was finding her confidence absent. “We don’t encourage things like love in Suna. It doesn’t work out well. People die too easily – the desert is deadly. But I feel something for you, and I want to spend every second with you while I can. Like, it’s _real_ , Shikamaru. It feels like I could spend my life with you. And I _want_ to. And I know it’s stupid, and the Suna council is going to try their best to fuck this up for me, and we could both die tomorrow, but I want to try.”

He flopped onto his back with a yawn, eyes closing again. He looked thinner. She hadn’t left him for long, but she wondered how long he needed to self-destruct. Not long, if Ino was to be believed. A little twist of guilt ran through her.

“. . . Troublesome woman . . .”

“Focus.” She shifted, not uncomfortable, but not at ease. “I was talking to Laini, and he said not to regret anything and to just let go of everything and try to feel, take the risk . . . are you asleep?”

“Hm,” Shikamaru waved an arm around in a vaguely gesturing motion. “C’mere and stop talking for a bit . . .”

“Shikamaru.” She dropped obligingly onto his stomach, and he snorted, startled into opening his eyes again. “I’m saying maybe. _Maybe I do_. Because it’s something I don’t feel around anyone else. You’re special. Different. And it scares me that I feel this way because I can’t see how we’re going to make it work. I don’t . . . I don’t get to make choices like this, and I might be forced to break up with you, but until then, and even after then, I want you.”

“Hm.” He relaxed again, eyes dropping closed.

“Shikamaru,” she leaned down, crossing her arms on his chest, noses almost touching. “Are you listening to me?”

“Maybe love me, special, spend life together,” he mumbled in summary, arms coming to wrap around her and hold her close. “Go to sleep and stop being troublesome, for once in your life.”

She smiled, kissing him lightly. “It’s time to wake up.”

“S’not. Having a wonderful dream where you’re not talking and just letting us spend the day in bed.”

“I’m sorry I cause you so much trouble, and I’m sorry I’m bad with emotions,” she watched him carefully, but he didn’t open his eyes again. “And I’m sorry I left without saying anything last time – you surprised me. I’ve got a lifetime of conditioning to undo, and it may take a while.”

“Got time,” Shikamaru mumbled, trying to pull her down next to him.

She gave in with a slight chuckle, letting him manipulate her onto the bed next to him. He turned her so he could put his face into the back of her head and breathe in the scent of her hair, and drape an arm over her, his hand over hers, fingers entwining. “Tem, still love you, but please stop leaving the country in the middle of important conversations. Starting to stress me out.”

“Sorry,” she murmured. He was warm and comfortable, and clearly ready to go back to sleep.

Temari stayed quiet for a bit, just letting herself enjoy the moment – learning to slow down like he always insisted.

She knew the exact moment he processed everything she had said, because he jolted suddenly, and she could feel his heart abruptly start thumping. She stayed still, smiling broadly.

“Tem . . .” he began, in a whisper. “. . . Did you just say you could see us spending the rest of our lives together?”

“I did,” she confirmed, her smile widening. The rapid-fire thud of his heart continued.

“Oh.”

“Can you see it, too?” she asked. Part of her wanted to turn around and face him, but the other part of her didn’t want to confront him. She waited, listening intently.

He mumbled something into her hair.

“What?”

“Hm,” he groaned, slightly resigned. “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“Obviously.” She pushed back into his chest. “Tell me anyway.”

He huffed out an annoyed breath against her hair. “Promise not to laugh?”

“Um . . . I’ll try not to.”

“. . . Been seeing a future with you since that day in the hospital . . .”

“What?” she spun around to face him. “You mean after I saved your skinny butt from that flute chick? That’s when? That’s when you started planning out this elaborate long life with me that ends in kids and dying old together?”

He ducked away from her disbelieving expression, hiding his face firmly against her chest, but he nodded anyway.

“Huh.” She wasn’t sure how she was meant to react to that. _Sappy little Leaf ninja . . ._

Seeing as Shikamaru was clearly not going to engage in further conversation, Temari nudged her knee into his leg to get his attention. “Hey. I’ve got nothing to do today. Take me somewhere and show me how to ‘slow down’.”

He sighed, letting out a warm puff of air against her breastbone. “Troublesome. But okay.”

He was half sitting up before she caught his wrist with a grin. “So, wait a sec, back then when I saved you and you spent the entire time I was in Konoha watching me from the shadows like a creep . . . that was because you liked me?”

He sent her an unimpressed look. “Can’t you let it go?”

“I would have absolutely destroyed you if you’d flirted with me back then.”

“Which, precisely, is why I didn’t.” He pulled her up with him.

“Smart boy.”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Back then I knew better than to mess with a hurricane.”

“What about now?”

He took a moment to study the wicked glint in her jewel green eyes, and heaved another sigh. “There are worse things to die of.”

 

They had been watching the clouds pass overhead, lying side by side, close to the lake. Shikamaru claimed it was the only place that guaranteed privacy. Temari just thought he wanted to lure her into the water again. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to give swimming another attempt. But, then again, she had never been one to back away from a challenge.

She sat up, glancing to her side.

Shikamaru was asleep, snoring lightly, spread out haphazardly on the grass.

It was a rare moment of peace between meetings and missions and the demands that were always upon them both.

She stood up, eyes on the lake. The water was sparkling under the sun’s rays.

Temari wandered to the edge of the water, dipping the toes of one foot into it. It was clear and cool. She glanced over her shoulder again, making sure Shikamaru had not moved. He remained dead to the world. She untied the obi from around her waist, letting it fall to the grass, then shrugged her kimono off.

She had gone far enough into the water for it to reach her knees when she heard him move, and she froze in place, keeping her back to him. Suddenly, inexplicably, she was concerned about what she looked like. He had seen her in less than shorts and a bra, but it mattered suddenly.

She had never been self-conscious around him, but right now, in the daylight with no barriers and no shadows, she was, and it was an unfamiliar feeling.

She didn’t turn to look at him, keeping her face away from him while she gathered back her self-confidence. What was he thinking? Did he think she looked weird? Her skin was oddly tanned in different shades with different lines, and that had never bothered her before, but now it seemed like such a big deal, because what he thought mattered, and what he liked was important to her.

She looked down. Her stomach was pale, but her arm lay against her side coloured dark and caramel, and she could see the gradual ombre of white to brown down her thighs. She bit her lower lip. Wondering, if she ignored him long enough, if he would roll over and go back to sleep, and she could pretend she never knew he was awake.

But Shikamaru didn’t like making her life easy, and she heard him shift a bit, before asking, “What’s that?”

She half turned, looking towards him. He was sitting up, a deep frown on his face, eyes trained on her back. She often forgot the scar was there, but now she turned fully to face him, hiding it from his view. “It’s a scar.”

“I know that. What caused it?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“It’s an unusual shape.” His eyes flicked up to hers. Genius that he was, she was almost certain he had already figured it out. “Who hit you?”

She stared at him, eyes narrowed. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“No, you don’t.” He shrugged, and lay down again, hands tucked behind his head. “You don’t owe me anything. I can’t force you to do anything.”

She was surprised. “That’s it? You’re not . . . going to push it?”

“Not my style. And if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s none of my business.” He closed his eyes again, shifting around, bending both knees to ease the stretch along his calves. He heard her come back, listened to the water churn as she walked out of it.

He was not expecting her to drop down onto his stomach without an iota of warning, and his eyes flew open, hands pulled apart in an instinctual attempt to protect himself.

But she was sitting with her back to his face, the scar clearly visible. She folded her arms across his raised knees, leaning forward to rest her chin on them. Shikamaru relaxed slightly. Tentatively, he brought one hand up to trace his fingers lightly across the scar. She shuddered at his touch, and he wished he could see her face.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” he murmured.

She shook her head, leaning a bit more heavily against his legs. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Who did this to you?”

She bit her lip, closing her eyes briefly. “My father.”

She felt Shikamaru tense underneath her, every muscle tightening fractionally. His hand stayed still at her side, and she heard him grit his teeth slightly. He let out a long, tense breath through his nose. She stayed perfectly still, focusing on the way his fingers glided across her skin, investigating the edges of the scar.

“Is that the reason you fight so hard?”

“What?”

“Your father. Did he . . .” Shikamaru tensed again. “Did he beat you?”

“No.”

“But you had to work hard to survive, didn’t you? Suna wasn’t easy.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She stared at the lake. “It was hard. I had it easier than most people, and even then, it was difficult sometimes.”

She thought of children left to die in the desert, of people starving in the streets, of desperate women doing whatever they could to get food to their families. It had been hard – hearing whispers all her life, keeping a wary eye on Gaara when the wind howled and demon in his mind screamed too loudly for him to handle.

“What was it like?” Very softly, his thumb traced over the scar.

“Like living every day by looking over your shoulder. Like needing to watch every person on the street, because all of them were looking at you, and you didn’t know why, or what they would do. There was nowhere to be safe – because the streets were full of bad people, and home had a demon in it, and your father only paid attention to you if you put yourself into danger.”

His fingers stilled again.

She shifted slightly, hoping to encourage him to keep caressing her. She liked the way it felt.

“Bad people?” Shikamaru enquired.

“Yeah. I got shouted at a lot. Followed home a few times. Attacked once or twice. Bad people.”

“Hm,” he hummed. “That’ll be why you don’t like men, then.”

She scoffed. “It’s not like that. I’m not going to blame an entire gender for a few special idiots who’ve passed through my life. The problem isn’t men specifically; it’s our shinobi world. It’s our society. I’ve grown up in a village where everyone preys on everyone else. They think they can try to control me or dominate me, and then act all surprised when I won’t let them. Like they’re entitled to something, just because they’re _men_.”

“Is that why you chose me?” Shikamaru asked mildly, occupying himself with tracing light patterns on her thighs. “Because I just rolled over and gave in and let you do whatever you liked to me?”

It might have been an over-simplification of the process, but Temari didn’t see a need to argue. “You can think whatever you like.”

“I think,” Shikamaru continued, “That you feel safe with me. Because you know I won’t do anything. You can overpower me if you want to, but you also trust me to make the best decisions because you know I’ve thought of everything.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, meeting his dark eyes.

He watched her thoughtfully, confident in his analysis.

Of course he was right. He was always right. He was an anchor in her life, a gentle, quiet presence. He was a solid wall that her wild wind personality could beat against, buffering her when needed, redirecting at other times.

He was so, so very different.

She couldn’t tell him she loved him. She didn’t know how. Not yet, anyway. But whatever she felt, it was powerful and real, and it was throwing everything she had learnt away.

She turned around, still staying on his stomach, but facing him. She stared down at him, and he looked serenely back at her.

Maybe that was it. Maybe what she thought was safety was love. Because she wouldn’t know, would she? She had never been safe. Not in her home, not in her village, not on missions.

But here, with him, yes, this was safety.

And being safe was a funny thing.

It meant there was nothing to fear.


	40. Threats

She shouldn’t be feeling this way.

She shouldn’t be longing and lonely, because she was sitting at home, on the edge of the roof, watching the sun set. There was no reason for the nagging in her heart and the pang in her stomach. It irritated her, but against her will she glanced in the direction of Konoha, and she wondered, _What are you doing right now?_

Napping, probably. Maybe having dinner with his team. Maybe trying to find someone to play Shogi with him.

She kicked her heels into the wall, settling into a rhythm, trying to distract herself.

“Temari.” It was Gaara, speaking softly. He approached silently, coming to sit down beside her as she gazed at the desert. “Is everything okay?”

It wasn’t really. She was achingly lonely, even knowing both her brothers were close at hand. She didn’t answer him.

Gaara looked out at the dunes, following her line of sight. He let the silence linger, then said softly, “You know, if there was something you wanted . . . Kankuro and I wouldn’t get in the way of that.”

She turned her head to him sharply, looking searchingly at him.

He dropped his gaze down. “If it would make you happy.”

“What?” she finally said, not sure if she was misunderstanding Gaara’s subtext.

Gaara sighed slightly. “He’s what you want. Everyone can see that.”

“Who is?”

“Shikamaru, duh,” Kankuro appeared out of nowhere, sitting down on Temari’s other side. “God, you’re impossible. Just admit it. You love that dork.”

“You love him so much you’re beating yourself up over it,” Gaara added softly. “Look at you – you’ve been unhappy for days.”

“I’m not unhappy.” She stared down at her knees.

“You are,” Gaara said, in a surprisingly tender voice. “Temari, it’s hurting me to watch you like this. He’s always on your mind.”

“I couldn’t leave Suna.” But it was starting to come to that, because she couldn’t handle the distance any longer. She wanted, desperately, to be close to Shikamaru and to stay close to him. One of them had to make a change.

“We’re not asking you to,” Gaara murmured. “You wouldn’t leave. This is your home, and always will be. But, you can have more than one home.” He hesitated. “What does he mean to you?”

She shrugged, unwilling to try to find an answer.

She leaned into Kankuro, and he put an arm casually around her shoulders.

Neither brother mentioned it when she sniffed loudly, and surreptitiously wiped a hand across her eyes. “It wouldn’t work. What with missions, and the stupid council, and the distance and everything . . . Anyway, he’s lazy, and good for nothing . . .”

“And I would trust him with the fate of the shinobi alliance,” Gaara said softly. “Without a doubt. I would trust him with everything that mattered to me.”

“Everything?” she sniffed slightly.

“Everything,” Gaara repeated, in a voice both gentle and firm. “Even someone who means the world to me.”

“Tell us what you want,” Kankuro said, for once sounding gentle rather than demanding.

“I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering.” She closed her eyes. Kankuro was warm and firm.

She wanted Shikamaru. She wanted the family he spoke of. She wanted more. She wanted to leave the harsh life she had behind and start a softer, gentler life. She wanted security and certainty. She wanted to wake up with his warmth next to her. She wanted to do better than her father had done.

But she wanted the desert, she wanted the wind and freedom. She wanted to know the sun would be shining every day, and the horizon would shift in the wind, and the sand would be hot beneath her feet. She wanted the adrenaline of wielding her fan, and the heart racing feel of a fight.

For the first time, her heart was feeling torn.

“I can’t leave you,” she muttered, hating the way her voice cracked slightly. “I can’t leave you, but I can’t ask him to leave his home.”

“Why can’t you leave us?” Gaara asked, and Temari felt Kankuro stiffen against her, his grip on her tightened.

“Because you’re my brothers. Because this is my home, because I’m needed here. Because someone has to watch the academy, and someone has to keep you two from being total idiots, and someone has to make sure everything gets done . . .” She broke off with a shuddering sigh. “I can’t leave.”

Kankuro tipped his head, his cheek leaning onto the top of her head.

“And if you stay here, without him,” Gaara started softly, “Would that make you happy?”

“No,” she answered miserably. She didn’t know what would make her happy. And she didn’t want to try to figure it out. Her eyes welled with tears, and she angrily wiped them away. “It doesn’t matter anyway; I don’t feel like fighting about this, and the council won’t think he’s worth it. It’d be better to just give up and stay alone forever.”

“You’d be unhappy forever, then,” Gaara pointed out gently.

She shrugged. “We all knew being happy wasn’t going to work out for me.”

“Just bring him home with you,” Kankuro said. “That’s the obvious answer.”

“Do you love him?” Gaara asked.

Temari closed her eyes, biting her lip, before nodding. “Yeah. I do. Definitely.”

Enough that the choices of what to do were tearing her apart, enough that the distance was starting make her chest ache, enough that her heart raced at the idea of seeing him.

“If,” Gaara began slowly, “I could guarantee that you would have full control of all future decisions, would that help?”

“What?” Temari blinked at him, and even Kankuro sent him a look of confusion.

“The only thing holding you back is the belief that the rest of the world won’t let you do whatever you want.” Gaara made this sound casual. “If you could choose whatever you wanted, you would feel better. And you . . . would probably choose Shikamaru.”

“Talking about it doesn’t help, Gaara,” Temari said, an edge of bitterness leaking into her tone. “Talking doesn’t make the council any less stupid, and it doesn’t make the daimyo any more cooperative, and it doesn’t make alliances any better.”

Gaara shifted so she could see him clearly, looking at her earnestly. “I haven’t been able to give you anything. Nothing that matters. I’ve spent a lot of my life being someone who was more of a burden than anything else.”

“Gaara-“ she began, but he held up a hand for silence.

“Temari, I know. I know you don’t blame me at all, and I know you’ve long since forgiven me for anything that happened between us as children. But . . . I want to do something for you. And this is all I can think of.” He nodded slowly, seemingly having made up his mind about whatever he was thinking. “I’m calling a council meeting. With all the elders and the surrounding daimyo’s and their representatives. And they are going to all agree to stop interfering with your life and leave all future decisions up to you.”

“It’d take more than a miracle to make that happen,” Kankuro said dryly. “She’s still Suna’s princess; the council can’t just ignore that.”

“And Shikamaru might hate the idea of moving here, and things wouldn’t work between us,” Temari added. “We haven’t talked about who would go where, if this went any further.”

“But you’d have the option of deciding,” Gaara said plainly. “You wouldn’t be bound by anyone’s will but your own.” He looked at her, a worried crease between his brows. “I’ll organise the meeting.”

“It’ll be a waste of time,” Temari warned, feeling weary and exhausted at the thought.

“But a necessary waste of time,” Gaara stated. “Because if you want to date Shikamaru publicly, we would still need to go through all this.”

“Yay,” she said dryly. “I love having stodgy old men tell me who I can and cannot develop feelings for. I might as well not bother attending – saves me the trouble of hearing them complain.”

“I do certainly hope you’ll be there,” Gaara said, hesitating before leaning very gently against her, “Otherwise the official letter I sent to Shikamaru stating Suna’s approval of him courting you would have been a waste.”

“You did _what_?”

 

Nothing was a secret in Konoha.

Everyone knew everything, and Temari wasn’t surprised when the gates to Konoha came into view, and it wasn’t just Shikamaru waiting for her. His friends were scattered around, obviously delighted at the ‘official’ news that Shikamaru was dating her.

She wondered how it had spread. Probably the Hokage. And if Naruto got hold of the news, it would be all over the village within seconds.

She wasn’t even that annoyed – it was slightly heart-warming to see everyone had made an effort to show up, even if ninety per cent of them were just there to ridicule Shikamaru. When Naruto caught sight of Temari he elbowed Shikamaru so hard that he staggered a step sideways.

Temari shook her head, thinking fondly, _Bunch of Leaf idiots._

“Hey,” she called out, receiving a resigned wave from Shikamaru and a wolf whistle from Kiba.

“I’m sorry,” Shikamaru said. “I told them not to come.”

She shrugged, stopping in front of him. “No one listens to you.”

“Hey, congratulations, Princess,” Ino bounded up. “We are going out for drinks tonight to celebrate – all the girls.”

“This has literally been going on for years, isn’t celebrating our relationship a bit pointless?” Temari remarked.

“It hasn’t been _official_ for years,” Ino replied instantly. “And any excuse for drinks is a good excuse.”

“Fair enough,” Temari conceded. “I guess it’s nice not to have worry about people knowing anymore.”

“I think I liked it better when people didn’t know,” Shikamaru grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning away as Naruto poked him repeatedly in the arm.

“Man up, cry baby, life isn’t easy.” She smirked at him.

Shikamaru sighed heavily, shrugging Naruto off and taking a few steps to the side in an attempt to gain back his personal space.

“I have something to tell you,” Temari added. She tried to sound casual, tried to round relaxed, but the anticipation sent a white hot bolt of thrill through her.

He looked back at his friends doubtfully. “I can get rid of them-“

“That’s a lie and you know it. No one can get rid of Naruto.” Temari shook her head. “Ignore them.”

She laced her hands behind his head so she could pull him close enough to whisper in his ear, so only he would hear it. “Shikamaru,” she breathed, pausing, gathering the courage. “. . . I love you.”

He froze in place, and it made her smile. She pressed a soft kiss to his neck before drawing back to look at him. He was completely still, just staring at her in wonderment. He swallowed, never once breaking eye contact. Then, he closed his eyes slowly, lowered his head until their foreheads were touching.

“You sure about that?” he whispered, barely audible, taking in carefully measured breaths.

“Yes. I am.” She could feel the light flutter of her heart, the sheer conviction in what she was saying. Love was a beautiful feeling. “I’m all in.”

He let out a slow, shuddering breath, and opened his eyes to gaze into hers. It felt unequivocally _right_ to be looking at him, into the dark shadow depths of his eyes, that were warm and glowing and safe. It felt like life was finally on track, and that was what love was meant to be – a comfort, a sense of security, of safety.

In that single, still moment, she felt like she could reach the gentle future he talked about. That it was possible – to have a family, to spend the rest of her life with him, to always have him at her side. To be together forever, to take on Suna’s council, to banish the fear that he would be taken from her too soon like her mother had been taken from her father. To grasp that fairy tale ending that Suna had always kept out of reach.

“I love you,” she repeated in a breathy whisper, because he deserved to hear it, and she could almost feel his heart jump at her words.

He closed his eyes again, and a smile curled at Temari’s lips.

“Ino’s not getting you tonight,” he said in a low voice. “She can shove off; I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I’ll let her know.” Temari waited until he opened his eyes and looked at her again.

“How many futures are you thinking about now?” she teased, because he always had to think about things before he answered her, always had to consider everything carefully and rationally.

“Just one,” he answered, not moving. “Just ours.”

 

Temari was alone in the council room, gathering up a few things she needed for the next diplomatic meeting at the daimyo’s estate. It was late afternoon, with the sun setting, and the village starting to cool slightly.

She slid everything she needed into one pile to take home and read through that evening. As she was about to leave one of the elder council members, Hatari, entered the room.

“Temari,” Hatari said, with a short nod in her direction.

She inclined her head briefly in acknowledgement.

“Princess, if you have a minute?”

She pushed back a groan. “What?”

“You weren’t at our last few meetings.”

“I know. Until about a minute ago, I had been very successfully avoiding talking to any of you.” She tried to keep the irritation from her voice, but didn’t think she had done a very convincing job of it.

“I’d like to talk about a few things, seeing as Kazekage-sama has organized for us all to meet together expressly to discuss you,” Hatari said, moving to sit down. He looked at her expectantly, but Temari made no move to sit as well.

She stayed exactly where she was, cocking an eyebrow.

“This village has your future to think about,” Hatari began.

“Yeah, well, feel free to stop thinking about it. I can handle it all by myself.”

He smiled thinly. “When are we going to get that attitude of yours under control?”

“You’re not.”

“It seems to me,” he said, “That it might cause some problems in the future. For other people. Seeing as it has in the past. There are rumours, you know, and whatever your relationship is with the Wind daimyo’s son . . .” He paused to think. “I feel like that might cause problems for him.”

“Laini and I don’t have a relationship, so it’s not going to cause a problem,” she replied stiffly.

“He has been doing such a good job improving things in this country. It would be a pity if he was seen as untrustworthy or unfit to hold his position of power.”

“He is not.” Temari was guarded now, careful, wondering what Council was implying.

“See, that’s what everyone else thinks as well. But there are certain situations that might make people doubt him. Things like fooling around with too many girls – sometimes rather young girls - or agreeing to all the propositions from Suna solely because he was sleeping with Suna’s princess.”

Temari stayed quiet.

“I’m just mentioning it, because no one else seems to. But I wonder if the contracts signed by the daimyo would still be valid if it were known that you were influencing Laini in less than professional manners. And if that political marriage of his would still be seen as viable if his wife knew about you and him.”

There was no point in denying it, but Temari wasn’t going to let Hatari spread lies. “Laini was not married at the time-“

“But you were underage, weren’t you?” Hatari broke in smoothly.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Temari snarled. “Don’t try to use that as an excuse – because you were one of the people who signed off on me attempting a seduction mission at _twelve_ , so don’t pretend you care about things like that.”

“Suna might not, but the Estate’s investors would probably be interested in that. Of course, it would damage Laini’s reputation. His father might force him to step down. What a scandal it could be, wouldn’t you agree?”

“If you fuck up Laini’s reputation and standing amongst the surrounding countries, you’d be putting Suna’s economy in danger.”

“I’m aware.”

“If we lose trading agreements and the water import agreements because of you, you’d bring this whole village down.” Temari took in a deep breath.

“The higher ups would survive. It would only be expendable people who would be affected – just the lower classes, really.”

“You would tear apart an entire village just to keep control over my future?”

“I would.” Hatari looked at her blankly.

“I could kill you without breaking a sweat,” Temari warned.

“You could. Of course,” he began coolly, “If you did, it wouldn’t help you much, would it? Because it would undermine all of the political work you’ve done. It would bring your reputation into question. And that might cause you to lose some of your ambassadorial posts. Certainly, other villages would reconsider how much they trust you. And we wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardise what you have in Konoha, would we?”

Temari stayed silent.

“If you kill me, Konoha isn’t going to allow you move so freely through their village. They won’t trust you amongst their important people. It might bring the sincerity of the peace treaty into question – you wrote it, didn’t you? It would be a shame to have them second guess it, and all your intentions. And I think Gaara would be upset to lose the Leaf as allies. He’s rather fond of some of them.”

“I get it,” Temari said. “You’re untouchable.” _And underhanded, and a bastard, and –_

“There still remains the issues of what to do with you.” Hatari remained calm. “Rasa’s legacy is safe here in Suna, because we have Kankuro and Gaara. And Konoha are strong allies already, but the main problem we have is with Iwa.”

“I’m not interested in being a peace offering. Get your treaty some other way.”

“You are interested in someone from Konoha, though, aren’t you?”

Temari stiffened slightly.

“Because Gaara did send off a letter allowing him to court you. Which doesn’t really help Suna, does it? And Suna might need all the help it can get if the Konoha treaty is broken. Iwa might be able to help, but of course that would only be if we could find some way to get them interested in our village . . .”

“No,” Temari said firmly.

“Suna has already had one Kazekage marrying for no good reason, to bring no benefit to this village, and it almost brought this country down to its knees,” Hatari growled. “Rasa made a mistake marrying Karura, and this council isn’t going to sit idly by and watch you repeat his mistakes.”

“Then don’t look,” she snapped back. “You can’t control me for the rest of my life. And you can’t threaten me into compliance.”

“I think I can. Because if the daimyo retracts all its contracts with Suna, it’s Gaara who has to face those consequences. Do you really want to be the reason this village falls again?”

Her fingers twitched for her fan.

“I’d think hard about that, if I were you, before you show up to the meeting demanding to spend your time with some boy from Konoha that no one will ever remember. It’s not just you who this ridiculous thing affects. It might hurt Gaara and Laini, too. It might bring about the entire economy failing. It might be the end of Suna. But, by all means,” Hatari stood up, “Don’t let me stop you from your pointless relationship. After all, who am I to question Suna’s princess if she wants to be selfish enough to destroy her entire village for some boy that no one even knows?”

Temari stayed quiet, taking in carefully measured breaths.

“I’ll see you at the council meeting,” Hatari said pleasantly. He started for the door, then paused. “Rasa can’t protect you anymore, and Gaara doesn’t have the skills to do what Rasa could. Maybe think about that. You’re nothing but a bargaining chip, and that will never change.”

He left without another word, and Temari remained where she was.

It took a while before she recovered enough to leave.

 

 


	41. A Million To One

“Did you eat all my chocolate?” Temari asked, standing on the tips of her toes to peer into the back of the kitchen cupboard.

“No. I ate all _my_ chocolate.” Kankuro didn’t look up from the stove, where he was busy making dinner.

Temari rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t yours.”

“Didn’t have your name on it.”

“Didn’t have yours either. They don’t make ‘Stupid Ass’ chocolate in Konoha.”

“It’s ‘Handsome Puppeteer’ chocolate, and you got it from the same shop you got ‘Relentlessly Annoying Big Sister’ chocolate.”

Temari hopped onto the kitchen counter near Kankuro. “You owe me a chocolate.”

“You owe me the beer you drank last week while I was in the shower.”

“A dance.”

“Dishes for a week.”

“You both owe me a break from your constant bickering,” Gaara interrupted, entering the kitchen. He looked tired. “What’s for dinner?”

“Not chocolate,” Temari supplied.

“It’s curry,” Kankuro said at the same time. “Don’t sit so close, Temari, you’ll spoil it with your saltiness.”

She kicked him in the hip, snorting when he grabbed her leg and almost pulled her off the counter in retaliation.

“Temari,” Gaara said, once they had settled down again. “The council is meeting next week.”

She sat very still.

“I’m not here next week,” Kankuro said. “Reschedule it.”

“We’re not rescheduling it,” Gaara said wearily. “It was hard enough finding a time everyone could manage – there’s the Wind daimyo and the River daimyo attending.”

Kankuro looked at Temari. “But I’m not here next week.”

“You don’t have to be there,” Gaara said, coming to lean against the counter next to Temari.

“I’m her moral support.”

“It’s next week,” Gaara repeated firmly. “Kankuro, I know you want to be there, but it doesn’t make a difference if you are or aren’t.”

“Someone’s meant to stand at Temari’s side while they interrogate her for no good reason,” Kankuro grumbled. He stirred dinner, pouting slightly.

“Temari?” Gaara said softly, suddenly noticing how quiet she had gone. “Is everything okay?”

She stared at the floor. “Cancel the meeting. It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” Kankuro sounded astonished.

Gaara made no comment, waiting to see if she would add more.

“It’s fine, we don’t need to do it,” she hopped off the counter. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

“Hey,” Kankuro grabbed her arm before she could leave. “Tem? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Let it go.” She wrenched her arm free.

“You need to give me a better reason than ‘not worth the trouble’,” Gaara stated.

She ignored him, moving away to leave the kitchen.

“Temari,” Gaara said firmly.

“Leave me alone, Gaara,” she growled, half out the door.

“No,” he said, and Temari spun to face him again.

“What the fuck is the point, Gaara?” Temari shouted. “What the fuck are we even doing? My entire life the council has been whispering behind my back. They are never going to accept this. They are never going to allow me the freedom to date who I want.”

Gaara stayed quiet.

“They are not going to hear me out, they are not going to relinquish control over my life, because they’re a bunch of stupid old men who want nothing more than to control me! Only me! No one else! And it’s not worth it, okay?” Her hand twitched slightly, wishing she had her fan in her grip.

“They are Suna’s shadows,” Gaara said. “They are part of this village’s darkness. And we have been working hard to banish this village’s darkness – so we need to show them we’re not going to give in to them.”

“Not all shadows are bad,” she grumbled.

“And isn’t that exactly what you want to talk to them about?” Gaara kept his expression neutral in the face of Temari’s glare.

“They won’t listen to me,” she snapped. “They never have. It’s a waste of time.” She would never admit it out loud, but Hatari had got under her skin, had made her question everything, because what if he really did have the power to take down Laini and disrepute Gaara, just to keep her away from Shikamaru? Her future wasn’t worth risking all of theirs.

“What’s bothering you?” Gaara asked curiously.

“Nothing.”

“I’ve never seen you back away from a challenge before. Especially not a political challenge. And not something that you _want_. I thought you loved Shikamaru, and you want him here with you.”

“It’s just not worth it, okay?” she growled. “It won’t be worth what it costs.”

“Your freedom isn’t worth a meeting?” Gaara cocked his head slightly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She sent him an exasperated look.

“I can only assume there’s something else going on, because it’s not like you to be worried over something that hasn’t even happened. Or might not happen. And after all the trouble you’ve gone through figuring out what Shikamaru means to you, am I meant to believe you’d be willing to throw that away for no reason?”

“We all know exactly what’s going to happen,” she said wearily. “The council will do whatever they can to make it sound like me and Shikamaru together is the worst thing I could possibly do with my life.”

“They might not.”

“Of course they will.” She took in a deep breath, wondering if she should say what was on her mind or not. Gaara was waiting patiently for an explanation, and she gave in. “Hatari spoke to me.”

Kankuro raised an eyebrow. “’Bout what?”

She shook her head, trying to shake off the nervous feeling crawling across her skin. “About Laini. And Gaara.”

Gaara tilted his head curiously. “And?”

“The short version is if I end up with Shikamaru the entire village will collapse and we all starve to death.”

“Did he threaten you?” Gaara frowned.

“He threatened _you_ ,” Temari explained. “And it’s not worth it to challenge him on this, because I’m not worth an entire village. And possibly Laini’s reputation as well.”

“Hatari can’t follow through on anything he said without the rest of the council backing him,” Kankuro pointed out.

“And do you think they won’t? They’ve all been waiting for something like this to come up. Hatari has always hated that I took over most of the ambassador posts because he wants me in the village where he can keep an eye on what I’m doing. This is just another way to get that. And I’m not putting Laini in the danger zone.”

“He’s bluffing,” Gaara decided. “He stands to lose just as much if Suna’s economy falls. It’s just another tactic to try to get to you, that’s all. He has no power over this village if we don’t give him any.”

“Do you want to risk it?” Temari demanded.

“I do.”

Temari and Kankuro both stared at him.

“You said that your happiness isn’t worth risking the village.” Gaara cleared his throat awkwardly. “. . . I believe it is. At least, it is to me.”

“You . . . would risk a village for me?” Temari said faintly.

“I would.” Gaara shifted slightly in place. “For you and for Kankuro. I think Hatari is bluffing. I would ignore him, and go ahead with the meeting. He is the last of Suna’s shadows that you need to overcome. You can stand up to him. You can find a way around him.”

“I’m not . . . that isn’t . . .” She struggled to piece her thoughts together, too thrown by Gaara’s words. “The whole village, Gaara . . .”

“Do you fear shadows?” Gaara asked.

She froze in place.

“Do you?” he pressed.

She thought about that. About years of blazing sun because that was the only place a little girl could walk without constant fear. About men who grabbed and pulled and tried to overpower her. About being held against her will. About monsters screaming outside her window in the dead of night. About men trying to dictate what she did and who she did it with.

“No,” she said. Not since one shadow had let her go. Not since she had realized that Rasa’s daughter was meant to be fearless.

“Then there is nothing they can do that will scare you.”

“It’s not about being scared, Gaara. I don’t fear the inevitable, I just don’t want to face it.” She pushed her bangs back. “I’m not scared of what Hatari is going to say about me. But I don’t want to hear it, because the entire council will agree with him, and then I lose the future I’ve been waiting for.”

“You might not.”

“It’s a million to one shot that they agree to me and Shikamaru being together. Less than that, probably, and if Hatari is really willing to bring Suna down just to keep me in check, well,” she leaned wearily against the doorframe. “It’s hopeless. I don’t get a happy ending. Because I can’t be happy with everyone around me suffering for my choices.”

Kankuro spoke up quietly, “We’ve had worse odds. We live worse odds.”

“Come to the meeting, Temari,” Gaara said. “It will be okay.”

“It won’t be,” she sighed. “We know it won’t be.”

“You’ve done a lot for this village. It’s about time they returned the favour.” Gaara seemed to think that concluded the conversation. He moved to the kitchen table, sitting down and watching Kankuro patiently.

Temari stayed in the doorway, uncertain. “. . . But the village . . .”

“Do you love Shikamaru?” Gaara asked levelly.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s worth the risk. You’re forgetting,” he added, “That even if Hatari does go after Laini, I believe Laini would be on your side. He will fight for you, too. So you don’t need to worry. We’re all with you. And I will never, ever let something happen to this village.”

Temari just shrugged, unsettled. Gaara might believe it was that easy, but it didn’t make her feel any better. It still made her feel like she was putting lives in danger just for her own happiness.

Rolling his eyes, Kankuro moved to one of the top cupboards, yanking the door open and reaching up for the top shelf. He groped around for a bit, before pulling his hand back.

“Oi, Tem,” he turned to Temari, holding his hand out. There was a little chocolate on his palm. “There. Quit whining.”

Despite herself, Temari smiled. “Thanks. Is it okay to call you my favourite brother?”

“Not while I’m in the room,” Gaara said indignantly.

“Don’t worry,” Kankuro winked at him. “You’re _my_ favourite brother.”

Temari returned to the counter, hopping up to sit on it again, and peel the paper off the chocolate. She sat as close to the stove as she could, and Kankuro stirred the curry with one hand, and left the other hand resting absently on her knee.

“Shikamaru better be worth all this,” Kankuro grumbled. “That chocolate is almost impossible to find.”

“A million to one,” Gaara murmured, looking at Temari. “Yet, we did.”

 

Temari sat on the roof, jaw clenched tensely.

The council meeting was supposed to be today, and she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to fight wearily to not only have Shikamaru, and freedom, but also to keep her village safe and Laini safe. There was so much at stake, and even though Gaara assured her they would manage and make everything work in her favour, she wasn’t convinced.

“Don’t you have a meeting to prepare for?”

Temari tipped her head back to squint at Baki. “Doesn’t matter. They aren’t going to listen to me.”

“So, you’re giving up? That’s not like you.”

“I’m not _giving up_. I’m just not doing anything. I can work around them. I only need the council’s approval to _officially_ date Shikamaru. Nothing’s stopping me from keeping things as they are. We can just see each other casually for the rest of our lives.”

“Would that be enough for you?”

“Yeah. It’d be fine.” She frowned at the sky. It wouldn’t be enough for Shikamaru, though, and his irritating and outdated ideas on dating and families and permanence. He was still stuck firmly to his ideas of tradition. He insisted it made things more real – because being able to say ‘we are dating’ was more real than her showing up to Konoha every few months and pinning him to the bed.

“Would it be fine for Shikamaru?” Baki came closer.

She shrugged. “He’d adapt.”

She wished Baki would leave and stop staring at her. She didn’t need to prepare for anything, because she didn’t have anything to say. If it looked like Hatari was going to bring Laini and Gaara down, she was going to give in. She was going into this meeting prepared to lose.

“Temari,” Baki said. “You can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“I’m tired,” she admitted. “I’m tired of fighting for everything. I just want something I don’t have to fight for, for once. Just something to be easy.”

“We don’t live easy lives.”

“I know.”

“And going the easy route isn’t like you. That’s not who you are.”

“Well, maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Shikamaru. Maybe I want to just slow down for once.”

Baki stared at her. “You have to earn that.”

Temari shrugged.

“Come with me,” Baki requested.

“Why?” Temari already getting up.

“Follow me.” Baki paused just long enough to check that Temari was prepared to move with him before leaping from the roof. She followed, across the village, through the gates and out into the vastness of the desert.

Baki led her away, stopping only when the village was a small speck on the horizon.

“You see that outcropping over there?” Baki pointed into the distance, where a series of jagged rocks broke the smooth lines of the dunes.

“Yeah?” Temari cocked her head slightly. What was he doing?

“Tear it down.”

“What?” On instinct, Temari’s hand moved to her fan.

Baki took a step back, nodding once in her direction. “You heard me. Tear it down.”

She waited to see if he would add anything. When nothing but silence stood between them, she pulled her fan from her back. She looked at Baki, and he still said nothing.

Not sure why, she gathered her chakra, swung her fan just once and sent a gust of wind hurtling across the desert. It cut a trench through the dune, collided with the rocks, and broke them apart.

“Happy now?” she asked, turning to Baki. “What was the point in that?”

“If I asked you to do that again, could you?”

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“And if I asked you to take down half of Konoha’s forests, could you?”

“Yes.”

“And if I asked you to split a river in half, could you?”

“Yes,” she said, irritation mounting. “But what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing stands in your way,” Baki said, looking solemnly at her. “There is no place in the world that the wind cannot go. And there is no force on earth that can hold the wind back. It goes wherever it wants to go – over the desert and through the trees and across the ocean.”

Slowly, Temari folded her fan.

“I’ve seen you take on anything that stands in your way. Be that an army, a storm, or a mountain. And you broke through them all, and kept going wherever you wanted to go.” Baki looked up at the sky, eye narrowed against the harsh sun. “The Suna council is just another obstacle. Just one more thing standing between you and what you want. They are less than a storm, and they are less than a forest.”

She stayed silent.

“You are more than just Suna’s princess. You are powerful enough to move the world. So move it. Go through the council and move to wherever you want your life to move to. I haven’t spent a lifetime watching you grow up just to see you give in now. Suna shinobi don’t give in. And who are you?” Baki asked in a low, serious voice.

“Rasa’s daughter.” She answered softly.

“You are more than just that.” Baki came closer, looking her in the eye. “ _Rasa’s daughter_ has been holding you back. You’re still sitting in his shadow and holding onto what you think he wanted. You are better than just Rasa’s daughter, you are more than his legacy. You are your own person. You are more than what Rasa made you. You’re Suna’s hurricane. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she met his eyes.

“Fearless. So, go and face that council, and fight for your life. For your future.”

“And when they tell me ‘no’?” she asked quietly. “What then, when we go through all this and nothing I say and nothing Gaara says will convince them to back off and leave me alone? And they threaten Gaara, and they threaten Laini? And the whole of Suna is in danger? What then?” She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life trapped in an endless circle of politics and bad decisions and regrets. She didn’t want to see the beautiful world they had been building collapse around her.

“Then,” Baki said, laying a hand on her shoulder. He squeezed gently. “You do what you’ve done your whole life. Get up, and fight back harder, until you have what you want.”

 

 


	42. The Council Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Politics; not my strong suite. Winging it, however, is a great talent of mine.

“Don’t cause a scene,” Gaara said softly.

“You love when I cause a scene,” Temari replied.

“I don’t care how angry we are at Hatari; we have a plan, and we know we can fix this.” Gaara sighed. “I have everything under control.”

“Well, yeah, ‘course you do,” Temari grinned. “Except for me.”

 

“Thank you all for coming,” Gaara began patiently, sitting primly in his seat and surveying the rest of the council room. Dotted around the large table was the Suna council of elders, Baki, Uzuri and her assistant, Laini, and Temari, who was ignoring the way Hatari was staring at her.

“I’ve called this meeting as per Suna’s regulations with the royal family about . . .” He hesitated. “About our princess courting someone.”

Temari cocked an eyebrow.

“As is traditional, the Kazekage, the council, the daimyo and the River country’s representative – as our closest partner in trade and with a vested interest in Suna’s future - all need to come to an agreement about this matter.” Gaara glanced at Baki briefly, who nodded encouragingly back.

“The person in question is Nara Shikamaru, of the Leaf Village. Currently holding the title of clan head of one of Konoha’s Noble clans and a position as the Hokage’s aide and advisor.” Gaara looked calmer now, more confident.

“I object,” Hatari said.

_Of course you do_ , Temari thought.

“Nara Shikamaru is certainly not good enough for her. He’s just a normal shinobi from a normal clan.”

“The Nara clan is very well respected in Konoha,” Gaara replied.

“It’s still nothing close to royalty,” someone else spoke up. “Why should we let our princess go to someone of a far lower status? That doesn’t benefit her and it doesn’t benefit Suna.”

“We need to help our village,” Hatari said, looking straight at Temari. “In case anything should go wrong in the future. How have you helped, Princess?”

“Hm,” she narrowed her eyes. She looked to Baki, and he looked straight back at her. It gave her confidence. “Well, I’ve moved rainstorms to keep everyone alive. I’ve changed the security routes to lower in-village fights and casualties. I’ve written the peace treaty with Konoha, and the trade agreements with five other countries. I’ve established a shinobi academy which has led to an increase in successful missions and a lower fatality rate amongst shinobi. I’ve sat on the shinobi alliance council since the Fourth Great War, protected the Kazekage when he’s outside the village, done every bit of negotiations with the Wind daimyo and his Estate since my father’s death and helped train the caravan escort team which makes sure food and water get into this village. But please,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “Tell me how I’ve done nothing.”

Gaara covered a slight chuckle by clearing his throat. He looked to Laini first.

“Laini,” he spoke softly. “Does the daimyo’s Estate have any objections?”

Laini straightened in his seat, tone serious. “The daimyo, his Estate, and his people will not oppose Suna’s princess in whatever she decides,” Laini stated.

Temari sent him a grateful smile.

“May I ask,” Hatari started and Temari very nearly rolled her eyes. “If your decision is in any way swayed by the relationship you and Suna’s princess used to share?”

“It is not,” Laini replied, in a carefully controlled voice. “If our past relationship had anything to do with this, I would be objecting. I would have asked the council myself if I could have the pleasure of courting Temari. But it’s in her best interest to pursue this other relationship with this Konoha shinobi. Given the help she has supplied the Estate with over the years, I see no reason to object to the perfectly reasonable request of being allowed to be happy.” He looked at Temari. “She deserves that much.”

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

He nodded once, before looking at Hatari again. “Any other questions?”

“Konoha is already an ally,” someone else spoke up. “Should we not encourage relations with villages we are not too close to?”

“Konoha is the largest of the villages,” Gaara said. “It is the greatest asset to us. I would think any relations our princess has with the village would guarantee the peace treaty stays intact. This is not merely ‘strengthening’ a bond with an ally, it’s cementing it.”

“Is entering a relationship with someone just for political gains really what we want Suna to be known for?”

“You were going to sell me out to Iwa anyway,” she said, with a raised eyebrow. “What difference does it make if it’s Konoha?”

There was a brittle silence.

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” Baki said gruffly.

“Seeing as it’s my life and my future, I think I had every right to know,” she answered stiffly.

The council shifted uneasily, but Baki met her eyes resolutely, and Laini was working hard to suppress a wide smirk.

“It’s not a matter of who you are-“ someone began.

“Yes, it is,” Temari snapped. “Don’t even try to tell me it’s because Suna has an interest in what happens to me. It’s not – it’s all about you trying to control me. Well, news flash, you can’t control me because I do not exist to be dominated. Wanna try it, _fine_. You can fight me for the right to dictate what I do with my life. But I am more than a trophy.”

“Just let her do it,” Uzuri rolled her eyes, and Temari somehow stopped her jaw from dropping.

“Did you just _agree_ with me?”

“Look,” Uzuri sat back in her seat, drawing herself up. “You and I don’t like each other. You think I’m pretentious and I think you’re a primitive brawler who has no idea how to act like a lady.”

“My extensive list of ambassadorial achievements would beg to differ.”

“Nonetheless,” Uzuri continued, “You haven’t yet done anything you’re supposed to do in life. I mean, you are awful at interacting with people. You have no regard for any sort of rules and regulations.”

Temari shrugged.

“Hell, you don’t even care about a reputation. What with you and Laini having a thing-“

“We didn’t have a thing,” Temari interrupted.

“We kind of had a thing,” Laini put in, giving a resigned shrug when Temari sent him a swift glare.

“It wasn’t a thing, it was just a-“

“A thing,” Uzuri insisted dryly. “Whatever. No one cares. The point is,” she turned an individual glare to each person in the room, “Temari isn’t going to listen anyway. She doesn’t have any idea how to behave appropriately – this village raises warriors. So you men can talk all you want and can give her all the rules and limitations you like but that won’t mean a damn thing to her. She’s doing this anyway, with or without approval, so save your whining and let her go.”

Laini nodded approvingly.

“Also,” Uzuri said, before seeming to lose all her bluster and mutter something unintelligible under her breath.

“What?” Temari cocked an eyebrow.

Uzuri sent her an irritated look, rolling her eyes. “Look . . . Um . . .” She trailed off again, and Temari wondered what was causing this uncharacteristic lapse in bravado.

“You saved me once,” Uzuri said softly, looking down at her hands. “You may remember a man named Giza.”

Temari remembered him very well.

“Once you shut down his operation, investigations found a list in his primary hideout with the names of future targets.” Uzuri looked up. “My name was on that list.”

Temari stayed silent.

“So,” Uzuri said, clearing her throat awkwardly. “You are the reason I was able to live my life. And now I can repay that and let you live yours. If it’s with some brat from Konoha, so be it. But whoever it is, let it be your choice. I speak as the River daimyo. My country, with all its ties to yours, will not oppose you.” She looked down at the table. “And your hair is still stupid and I hate you.”

Temari smirked.

“Any objections from the Suna elders?” Laini asked quietly.

Temari looked nervously at Baki, but he just looked away.

“What benefit would there be to Suna allowing her to do whatever she wanted?” Hatari asked. “Princess, you should know better. You’re supposed to put your village first. What you’re proposing basically amounts to treason.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Temari snapped. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Baki raise a hand to his face in resignation, but he didn’t stop her. “You’re talking shit, and you know it. ‘What benefit will this have for Suna?’ Really? Maybe it won’t have any benefit. Maybe it’ll just be something for _me_ , for once. Maybe it won’t do a damn thing for the village, but that’s okay, because I mean something, too. I also get to do things just for me.”

Gaara slouched in his seat, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

“And don’t act like one decision that isn’t solely for the village undermines everything else I’ve ever done for it,” Temari continued. “I’ve spent my life doing things for this village – and putting it above myself. I’ve done so much for Suna, and I still will. One thing does not erase all others.”

Hatari cleared his throat, about to speak.

Temari didn’t let him.

“I am Suna’s princess, but also Suna’s most powerful Wind user and one of her most powerful shinobi. Do not try to undermine me; do not belittle me or demean me. I am Rasa and Karura’s daughter; I command the desert winds that can tear down entire villages. I am more than a bargaining chip, and I control my own future. I have held this country up, and I will continue to do so no matter where I am or who I’m with.”

Baki was nodding slowly, but Temari didn’t dare look at him.

“You can threaten me, and you can try to scare me, but it won’t work. Because there is nothing in this village that I fear anymore.” She sent Gaara a look – his face was unreadable, but he made no move to correct her or interrupt her. Emboldened, she continued, “I’ve lived with a demon in my house, and shadows outside, and I’ve learnt not to fear either of them. With or without your approval, I’m doing what I want. Take my title away if you have to – but from now on, my life goes where I want. Discuss it all you want – I’ve said my part.”

She drew herself up, throwing a glare at Hatari specifically, and waiting to see if he would dare speak. When there was nothing but a brittle silence, she sent a brief, acknowledging look at Gaara, Laini, and Uzuri, and turned for the door.

She didn’t slam the door behind her. She closed it quietly, controlled, and walked to the window, looking out at the village. She drew in a few deep, calming breaths.

_That might have been a mistake_ , she thought grimly. But it had been done, she had said what she wanted to say, and she couldn’t take it back. She stood for a while, alone, until finally she heard the door open again, and knew someone had joined her.

_Meeting must be done, then_ , she thought.

“Temari.” It was Baki’s voice.

She shook her head, still staring out the window. “I’m not apologizing.”

He said nothing in reply.

“You told me once,” Temari said, turning to face him, “That I was Suna’s wild wind that no one could keep hold of.”

“I did,” he said, voice level.

She eyed Baki warily, unsure of his reaction. She assumed he would be angry. She had spoken out of line.

He stood in front of her, studying her carefully.

She held her chin up, ready to be defiant. To her surprise, Baki’s weathered face cracked into a smile. He rested a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn’t flinch back from the contact, pulled her against his chest and wrapped an arm around her.

“I’m so very, very proud of you,” he murmured. He squeezed her tightly, reassuringly. “Now go do whatever you want to do.”

 

 


	43. Goodbye My Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is my favourite chapter, but it's in the top three for sure.

The house was dark.

Temari sat on the couch, staring at nothing. It was all fine and good telling the council where to stick it, but that didn’t make the choice in front of her any easier. It didn’t explain her life any better, and it didn’t help her with the roiling feelings that she couldn’t untangle into any semblance of order.

Because she wanted to be in two places, and she couldn’t be. She wanted to be with Shikamaru, and she wanted to be in the desert, and she didn’t know how to ask him to leave the forest and his friends to live here – where it was dry and open and he wouldn’t have everything that he loved.

Only her.

And she wasn’t worth a village, and she wasn’t worth a lifetime of memories, and she wasn’t worth everything Shikamaru already had. She had only Gaara and Kankuro, but he had a family who loved him, and a team, and endless friends, and a sky full of clouds.

She slouched a bit, one elbow propped on the armrest, fingers curled against her mouth, just thinking. Just trying to plan. She had been there as the sun was setting, casting long shadows over her that no longer made her worry.

The front door opened, and there was the sound of soft footsteps.

“Hey,” Gaara said softly, taking in the sight of her. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Just thinking.”

“About?” he enquired, coming closer.

“Life. Me. Where I want to be.”

Gaara stopped a few feet away. His hair was shaggy long and windswept, and she loved how it made him look so free and child-like. He looked around the room, noting in a gentle voice, “It’s dark.”

“Yeah.” She stared blankly at nothing.

Gaara hesitated before coming closer. He didn’t sit down, but he hovered near her. The moonlight threw his worried expression into sharp relief.

If she left him for Konoha, who would make sure he took the time to wind down and relax on occasion? Kankuro wasn’t great at recognising the tension in Gaara’s shoulders. Baki wouldn’t say anything. It was only her who would make him sit down and get his mind off work and settle the tension throughout his body.

She chewed absently on the tip of her thumb. Seemingly from nowhere, she said, “Dance with me.”

Gaara shook his head. “I wouldn’t know how. I can’t even remember the last time you made me dance with you.”

“You were five,” Temari said, with a soft, fond smile. “I snuck in through your window because Yashamaru wouldn’t let me wake you – and we all knew you weren’t asleep anyway.”

Gaara ducked his head to hide a smile.

“You were terrible at dancing. Always had been. Or maybe I was just a terrible teacher. But I dragged you out of bed anyway, and made you dance with me.” She sat up a bit straighter. “There was no wind that night. It was silent and still. Nothing moved outside, no shadows changed. There was just the moon and the stars and you and me, and I treasured that night for ages. For a while, it was the best memory I had of you.”

“Do you,” Gaara hesitated, “Have better memories of me now?”

“So many,” Temari replied without pause. “Now there are so many moments with you that stand out as special.”

Gaara’s smile broadened, and he still tried to look away. He took a minute to compose himself, then asked, “Were you thinking about Shikamaru again?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, with a loud exhale. “We want . . . well, we know we want to be together. The fact is that we need to decide what ‘together’ means.”

“Also,” Gaara murmured, “ _Where_ is together?”

“Hm,” she rubbed a hand across her eyes. “That’s the thing. That’s the one thing we don’t have an answer to. There isn’t a clear ‘here’ or ‘there’. We both stand to give up a lot if we move, we both have important jobs. He has a clan to think about.”

She leant her head back, staring at the ceiling. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy.”

“That is the least helpful thing you have ever said.” She tipped her head forward to stare at him. “Obviously I want to do what makes me happy. But it’s not just about me.” And that, she reflected, was personal growth. The inclination to care about someone else’s feelings.

“I would miss you.” Gaara shuffled a bit in place. “. . . You know all the benefits of staying here. You’ve been here your whole life. What . . . what are the good things about moving to Konoha?”

“No council being shitheads – although I think we’ve shut them up for a while. Shikamaru insists the weather is better, but he doesn’t like that we have so few clouds. So, really, it’s not the physical things that matter. It’s the personal things.”

“Like what?”

“If Shikamaru came here . . . he’s got so much to give up. He has a family. He has his team, and his clan is linked to Konoha, and he has all these friends. Hell, he’s basically got a kid – his sensei’s kid – and I can see he doesn’t want to leave her.” She shrugged. “I don’t lose much, if I move. Just . . . you and Kankuro.”

“And Baki,” Gaara said. “Matsuri. She thinks you’re great. And Jade. And seeing Laini.”

Temari stood up. “Shikamaru and I have talked about it a lot now. Trying to plan for . . . for whatever the future brings. And what we want out of life. And what we’re willing to give up.”

She stood close to him. “I can show you how to dance.”

“Temari,” he didn’t move, shaking his head slightly. “Focus.”

She heaved a deep, heavy sigh. “I want . . . I don’t know. I don’t want to give up all the travelling.”

“I know you love your job,” Gaara said, “You love the travelling. You love visiting different places. And in case you think moving to Konoha would change that, it wouldn’t. I would . . . you would still be Suna’s princess, and I wouldn’t stop you from doing the diplomatic missions. Nothing would change. You would just be sending me reports from Konoha instead of here.”

“Sounds like you think Konoha is the better option.”

“I just want you to think it through properly.” Gaara stilled as Temari let her head fall forwards onto his shoulder. “Try it for a bit. You can always change your mind.”

“I know,” she murmured. Gaara’s shoulder was narrower than Kankuro’s. It felt different leaning into him. “Shikamaru said the same thing – said we should give it a try in both places and see how it feels.”

“If history is anything to go by, he’ll be right.” Gaara hesitated, raising an arm slightly. He had often seen Kankuro hold Temari close, and wondered if he was allowed to do the same thing. After a moment of indecision, he settled his arm firmer around her, pulling her ever so slightly closer.

Temari sank into him without protest, and Gaara relaxed a bit at the action, smiling softly.

“Of course he’s right,” Temari muttered into his shoulder. “Doesn’t make it any easier. We’ll do Konoha first – so I guess technically I’m moving out for a few months. Don’t do anything with my room – might come back.”

“I know you’ll come back,” Gaara assured. “Whether it’s to live here or just to visit, it’s always your room.”

“Don’t let Kankuro do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“And keep the village safe.”

“I will.”

“And clean the microwave occasionally before you both die of a fungal infection.”

“Okay.” He squeezed her a bit tighter. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Temari pulled back, looking at him sombrely. “Be safe.”

He nodded. “Temari, I promise you, everything will be fine. I’ll keep everything safe until you come home.”

 

Kankuro had been avoiding her. Ever since he returned, ever since Gaara had told him how the council meeting had gone, ever since she had started packing things for Konoha.

Temari finally managed to pin him down late in the night, when the desert was cold and still, and no one was moving around.

Kankuro sat at his desk with his back to her, working at a puppet by the dim light of the lamp on his desk. He was fresh out the shower, with his face scrubbed clean and his hair still damp, and the black t-shirt he wore had a hole in one shoulder and a glue stain on the sleeve.

“Kankuro?” she stayed in the doorway, feeling like an intruder, while he so clearly didn’t want to engage with her.

He grunted softly in dismissive acknowledgement.

“I’ll be spending a few months in Konoha,” she said softly.

“Uh-huh,” Kankuro didn’t look up. “Good for you.”

“Do you want to go out together, just the two of us? Spend some time together?”

“I’m busy.” He shifted the puppet slightly.

Temari leant against the door frame. “Kankuro. Talk to me.”

“Nothing to say.”

“That’s a first.” She wished he would turn and look at her, just act like himself. “Please?”

“What?” he asked, an edge of irritation leaking into his tone.

“You haven’t said anything about me and Shikamaru living together.” She took one step into his room. “You’ve been avoiding me since I decided I would move out.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“How?”

“Let it go, Temari.” He slammed the puppet down on the desk.

“No.” She took another step towards him. “Tell me why you’re acting like an ass.”

He spun around on his seat, voice rising. “Because I want you to be happy, but it never occurred to me that you being happy would be anywhere but here! You said that we would be a team forever, that nothing could split us apart!” Kankuro shouted. “You promised we’d never be apart, and now here you are thinking of abandoning Suna just for . . . just for . . .” He drew in a deep breath. “Just for Shikamaru.”

Temari hesitated, drawing back ever so slightly. “I’m not . . . abandoning Suna . . .”

“Come on, Temari, don’t kid yourself,” Kankuro groaned. “We all know Konoha is better. They’ve got so much more there. They don’t leave kids to die in the desert, and they don’t run out of food and water. It’s just one big, fucking happy family there, and we both know that’s where you’re going to stay. You’re going to move to Konoha for your stupid shadow boy, and you’re gonna leave me and Gaara because he’s more important suddenly.” Kankuro wiped furiously at his eyes. “You said we’d be a team forever. Just you and me, that’s what you said. Since we were kids.”

There was a strange lump in her throat, and she had to whisper around it. “I’m not abandoning you.”

“Fuck, Temari, don’t make this harder. Just go. Just leave and enjoy the forest,” he stood up, hoping to push her out his room. “Go and pick flowers and whatever they do there-“

She grabbed him, arms tight around his ribs, face pressed into his chest as the first helpless sob ripped from her throat. She could feel tears already starting to fall, and she didn’t bother to try to stop them.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to go and I don’t want to leave you and please don’t hate me . . . I’m trying. I’m trying to figure this out and I’m trying to do the right thing, and I love you more than Shikamaru and I always will but I need to do this and see what life can be without sand and dust and blood . . .” She had to pause, to let out a few full body shudders and gulping sobs. Her throat hurt, and the tears were falling faster, and she didn’t think she had ever cried this hard in her life. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

She wasn’t sure when Kankuro had wrapped his arms around her, but she felt it now when he tightened them, and she could feel one of his hands shaking against her shoulder blade. And his chest was heaving, and she could hear his ragged breathing.

“I don’t hate you,” he mumbled. “I don’t hate you, I love you so, so much. I don’t wanna see you go . . .”

She wasn’t sure which of them was shaking more.

“I don’t want you to go, and I don’t want to . . . I don’t want to have to say goodbye and think maybe you won’t come home again and,” he broke off with a gulp, voice wet. “Tem, I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’ll always come home.” She rubbed her face against his chest, trying to wipe off some of the tears. “It’s not forever, just a little bit, just a bit, and I’ll come home again.” She gave in to the sobs for a while, clutching hard at Kankuro’s back. “I’m sorry . . .”

“It’s okay,” he buried a trembling hand into her hair. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay and they both knew it. There had been promises when they were younger – _Just you and me, as it’s always been and always will. You’re all I have; I can’t manage without you. Nothing will get between us. Wherever I go, you’ll be there. No one on earth could take me away from you._

Promises that they never thought would be broken.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. She wanted to add, to explain _, I love you so much but I love Shikamaru too and I need to try his life and see what it’s like. And it’s hard to do this, and it’s tearing me apart inside, but all I want is to try_ , but she couldn’t get the words out around the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes.

“Just promise you’ll,” Kankuro broke off with a gulp and a loud sniff. His hand tightened against her hair, and she could feel it trembling. “Just promise you’ll be happy. Just, just . . . p-promise that it’s the right thing to do . . .”

“I’ll be home before you even notice I’m gone . . .”

She wouldn’t be. Because she knew that it made sense to stay in Konoha. It made so much sense, there was security there, there was an endless network of friends and help, there was easy living and abundant resources.

“We both know you won’t come back,” Kankuro breathed.

“I’ll come back.” She pulled away, raising a hand to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. With bright, tear-filled eyes she looked at her brother. “I’ll come back; I can’t leave you forever.”

“When are you leaving?” Kankuro asked, using the sleeve of his shirt to try to dry his own face.

“Couple of days.”

“I’m getting plastered the night you leave.”

“Will you come and say goodbye to me at the gates?” Her voice was still shaking.

He shook his head, gulping down another sob. “No . . . No, I won’t. But I’ll come and say ‘see you soon’, because I won’t say goodbye.”

She leaned into him again, rubbing her cheek against his chest and making yet another damp spot on his shirt. “Okay.”

Kankuro rubbed her back gently. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“Can’t sleep after crying. My eyes will get all puffy.”

“Then we should probably get some beers and get really, really drunk.”

“Okay,” Temari drew in a deep breath. She stepped back, wiping her eyes again. “Let me shower first.”

“Yeah.” Kankuro scratched his head, still sniffing a bit. “By the way, I finished your shampoo.”

“You do realize that I’m moving out, and you’ll have to get your own?”

“Gaara finished your body wash again.”

Temari fixed Kankuro with the most unimpressed glare she could muster.

He just grinned at her. “You love me, remember?”

Despite the tears still lingering in her eyes, she couldn’t help but smile fondly back at him. “Yeah. For some reason, I do.”

 

They stayed up most of the night, sitting side by side in Kankuro’s bed, talking and whispering.

When neither showed up for work in the morning, Gaara came searching for them, puzzled by their absence.

He found them both asleep, wrapped around each other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't wake them up.


	44. Two Important Questions

Shikamaru was asleep on the couch when Temari came home. She hadn’t expected him to be awake, but he had clearly attempted to make an effort, and she thought it was sweet. She shook him gently by the shoulder, “Hey, Shikamaru?”

He snorted awake, blinking rapidly, rising onto one elbow. “What?”

“I’m back.”

“Huh.” He settled down on his side again. “How was the first ever night out with the girls?” he asked with a yawn.

“Fun. Might be a bit drunk.” She crouched on the floor in front of him. “Shikamaru?”

“Hm?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Is it go back to sleep?” He mumbled, eyes already closed.

“No,” she shook her head, swallowing down the sudden surge of nervousness that arose. “I need you to . . . I need you to trap me in your shadow again.”

That prompted one eye open. “. . . What?”

“Please.”

“How drunk are you?” he rubbed at his eyes, sitting up.

“Not that drunk. It’s not about that. I just need you to.” Because that was the only thing she feared, and she had to face that, overcome that, fight through that. And better with him than anyone else.

He blinked at her, looking confused. “Why?”

“Please just do it.” She straightened up, looking down at him. There was very little distance between them. It would be an instant lock if he wanted; she was too close to get away.

Shikamaru looked at her, still cloudy with sleep, but analytical mind ticking along and figuring out what she wanted. For a few minutes, he just watched her, eyes flicking down once or twice to check distances and light sources.

_Stop thinking and just do it_ , she thought, because the longer he waited the harder it was going to be.

She stood very still, muscles coiling in anticipation. Of course, she would fight it. She knew she would. If she could just break free, it would make her feel better. If she knew he could never, ever hold her against her will, if she knew she had the power to overcome him, if she knew no one would ever be able to hold her down again, she would feel better.

He brought his hands together to form the seal, and her breath hitched, heart rate spiking upwards. It wasn’t panic, she assured herself firmly. It was readiness. It was not fear that had her almost shaking where she stood. She stared into his eyes, expression challenging. Her jaw tightened, eyes hard, ready.

To her surprise, Shikamaru sighed and let his hands fall apart.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Why not?” she snapped, voice shaking a bit. _Don’t get angry_ , she reminded herself.

“I can’t take advantage of you like that,” he rubbed a hand across his face again.

His words sent a slight tremor through her, but she ignored it. “But I asked you to.”

“Yeah, I know. But you don’t really want it. I can’t look at you like this and do what you’re asking. Not when . . . not when it’s worrying you.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said firmly.

“And you shouldn’t have to be.” He looked to the side, gathering his thoughts. “You’ll never need to be.”

“Shikamaru, I _need_ to do this.”

“Why?” he asked, with a frown.

“To prove I can,” she said. “To prove nothing in this world scares me, that no man will ever, ever have power over me again-“

“Temari,” he stood up, voice soft. “Love, you’ve always been fearless. You don’t need to prove that to the world or to yourself.”

But she did. She had so much to prove, to so many people.

“I need to know,” she said quietly, “That if you ever . . . if you ever tried to overpower me I could-“

“But I never will.” It was rare for Shikamaru to interrupt her. He cradled her face gently. “I never will. I’ll never do anything that frightens you. I promise you that, on my life, you’ll always, always be safe with me.”

Her eyes flickered around his face. “. . . You’re the one person in the world built to be everything I’ve been trying to get away from.” Every fear, every worry. Every warning. “You’re my one weakness.”

“And you’re all of mine,” he answered.

Temari stared at him.

“Trust me,” he murmured. He turned them, slightly, just enough that the light from the lamp was behind him and threw his shadow over hers. “Trust me. I will never, ever take your freedom away. Understand?”

It took a moment before she could nod.

“That’s over now; whatever you fought for before. That’s gone. You and I, we face things together. We don’t exploit our partner’s weakness, and we don’t take advantage of their fears. That’s what a partnership is.” He ran his fingers gently through her bangs. “We keep each other safe.”

“Your shadows are your greatest weapon. Are you telling me you’ll never use them?”

“Not against you. Only for you. And never to make you feel helpless, and never to make you feel trapped.” He looked at her, deep into the forest green depths of her eyes. “You okay?”

She nodded, cautiously at first, then with a bit more conviction. “Yeah . . . I think.”

“Good. Now can we sleep?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t move though.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Just . . .” She frowned. “. . . My dad was wrong about something. It’s a weird feeling.”

“Wrong about what?”

“Just something he said once.” Just something she had been carrying with her since she was very young, something that had warped every encounter she had. It felt strange and slightly unsettling to have something she had believed for so long be disproven.

“Was it important?” Shikamaru asked, wondering what had shaken her.

She thought about that. “No . . . not anymore.”

He waited, to see if she would add more. After a moment, she shook her thoughts away, entwining their hands. “Okay. Bed now.”

She snuggled up close to him that night, listening to the gentle thud of his heartbeat and the soothingly repetitive sound of his breathing.

All she needed was the howl of wind outside, and it would have felt perfect.

 

There was a line of trees blocking her view, but if she stood on the very corner of the porch she was looking straight in the direction of Suna. And the sun would be shining, and the village would be bustling, because it was mid-afternoon, and that’s when people started to become active again after seeking shelter from the blistering midday heat.

Gaara would be sitting in his office, and Kankuro would probably be coming home from taking a few kids out on a mission, and then he’d cook dinner because he liked to, and he’d grumble over washing the dishes because she wasn’t there to do it for him.

She waited for the wind to pick up, but it never did. It stayed mild and calm, and she felt like she was constantly waiting for huge gales and sand to whip around her. The peace was mildly disconcerting. It made her stomach twist in nervous anticipation.

“Hey, hurricane,” Shikamaru called softly.

She didn’t turn to look at him. She heard him approach, leaned back into his chest as he stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She settled then, felt the oddly comforting warmth that he brought spreading through her.

“How are we meant to decide where we belong?” she asked, still looking longingly at the trees and what she knew lay beyond.

“Because weighing the pros and cons doesn’t help,” Shikamaru added, uncannily in tune with her pattern of thinking. He pressed his chin into her shoulder. “Um . . . so, my dad told me once . . . that you could see where someone belongs by what’s in their eyes.”

Temari heaved a sigh. “That’s just kids’ stories, Shikamaru. This is real life.”

He shrugged, turning her around and looking at her curiously. “But what do you see when you look into my eyes?”

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Shadows.”

“Because that’s where I belong,” Shikamaru pointed out. He tilted his head slightly. “You know that. That’s where I’m strongest, that’s where I’ve always been.”

He studied her, carefully, like he always did.

“Fine,” Temari said, exasperated. “What do you see when you look into my eyes?”

His answer was quieter; a soft, reverent murmur. “The forest.”

She looked away, dropping her gaze downwards and to the side. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

She missed home. She missed the desert, the missed the sun, she missed the wind, and she desperately missed her brothers.

“What’s wrong?” Shikamaru asked, sensing her shift in mood.

“Miss home,” she muttered.

He looked out at the forest, mulling that over. “If that’s where you want to be, we can go.”

“It would be better to raise kids here,” Temari said. “Suna is . . . hard. At the very least, they’d have to be born here. That way they have Leaf citizenship and the council can’t fuck them up.”

“So, that’s the tie breaker? Kids, we live in Konoha. No kids, we live in Suna?” Shikamaru paused to think. “Makes sense.”

“You want kids.”

“Do you?” Shikamaru asked. “Because if you don’t, that’s that. Children aren’t something you can only be half on board for. Either you want it too, or we don’t have them at all.”

“I didn’t want kids,” Temari said slowly. “Because I didn’t want to have someone else suffer through Suna like I did. It didn’t seem fair to force someone to go through that.” She looked at the trees again. “. . . I don’t know what I think now.”

“It’s not something we have to decide now. There’s always the option of living in Suna, and moving back to Konoha if we decided we want kids.”

Temari snorted. “What will your friends say to that?”

“Yours is the only opinion that truly matters.”

“You’re the Hokage’s aide.”

“You’re Suna’s princess.”

“The Nara clan head.”

“Pretty sure the princess thing trumps that.” Shikamaru smiled at her.

“We’re at a stalemate,” Temari grumbled, leaning against him and hooking her chin over his shoulder. “Neither of us can just up and leave. I told you this was impossible. I told you it wouldn’t work.” She growled under her breath. “We’re kidding ourselves, there isn’t a future where we both get what we want.”

The Suna council had already made loud protests at her moving to Konoha temporarily, since they believed that as Shikamaru was of ‘lesser’ status he should make the move to the desert. Temari had told them to go fuck themselves, and Kankuro had snorted and pointed out that it didn’t matter where Temari was, she was still Suna’s princess.

“I have what I want.” Shikamaru pushed her back just enough to reach a hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently. “It’s you. The ‘where’ doesn’t matter. We can weigh up the pros and cons forever, and we can talk through all two hundred ideas I’ve had, but that will never change the fact that having you is always going to be enough for me.”

She jerked her head away. “You say that now. But things change. Situations change.”

“Are you denying yourself happiness because you’ve always grown up struggling, and you don’t think you deserve not to suffer?” he asked softly.

“Save your fucking psychological assessment for someone else, Shikamaru,” Temari growled. She wanted home. She wanted the heat, she wanted Kankuro, she wanted the freedom that the forest didn’t have. It was so closed in and suffocating, and the air was too wet, and she couldn’t see anything coming because the visibility was limited.

“That wasn’t an answer.” He waited, before asking again, “Do you think you should be allowed to be happy?”

She didn’t know how to answer, but she supposed the silence was enough.

“You must have thought about this,” Temari said. “About what happens now. When we have the freedom to decide. That was the point of trying to live in both places and seeing how it worked out. If _we_ would work out.”

“I know. I’m still thinking.”

She turned again to look out at the forest. “And where does this go, what does this become, what happens to you and me?”

When he took too long to think, she clenched her fists.

“We need to make a decision. We can’t keep hovering between ideas like this. It’s too frustrating. We need a more definitive idea of ‘us’. Just something to let me know where we need to be.”

Shikamaru fell silent for a long time, eyes down.

Temari waited, because when he got quiet, he was usually thinking.

Finally, he looked up at her, “Would you trust me?”

“With what?”

“Everything. You.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Look, I don’t have all the answers. But if I asked you something, with the promise that we’d figure it out, would you trust me? To make the right decision, and to do the right thing? The right thing that would make you happy, and make me happy. And . . . and just trust me?”

“What is it that you’d ask me?” Her voice was small, uncertain.

His gaze flicked to the floor, then the sky, then to her, and repeated the cycle once more. “I’d do anything for you. Anything that I could. I’d give up dreams, and find new ones, and whenever I’m around you I want to be a better man. You push me in the all the right directions, and that’s something I’d be a fool to let go of.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“You’re always on my mind, and I think I’m ready to understand what that means. I feel like I could step up and be whatever you want me to be. I know you’re independent and you don’t need someone, but I also know you’d choose me to be at your side if you could. And I’m happy to be there.”

“Still not a question, Shikamaru,” she growled, growing irritated.

He smiled at her. “Yeah, sorry. I hadn’t planned to do this now – this was a later on plan – few months, probably. But you’ve blown all my other life plans away, might as well let you derail this one too.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“Temari,” he swallowed once, expression sobering. “Would you marry me?”

 

 


	45. Watch Me Rise

“I have one condition,” Temari said firmly. In the ensuing silence, she added, “You are not to wear that stupid face paint to my wedding.”

Kankuro grinned broadly. “But I’m a puppeteer.”

“You’ll be a corpse in the desert if you dare show up looking like that.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I want you as you. Like we used to be. The way you looked when we were kids. Before life got hard. That’s all I’m asking.”

Kankuro let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Ruin all my fun.” He flopped back in his seat. “Is that all?”

“I’ll think of more as I go along.”

Gaara’s formerly tense expression eased. “It’s good to have you home again.”

“And look what you brought along,” Kankuro indicated to Shikamaru, who was sitting close to Temari and silently lamenting the heat. “Dude, congrats. It took balls to ask Temari to marry you. She would have torn you apart if she’d decided ‘no’.”

Shikamaru was faintly smug and radiantly proud, saying softly, “But she said ‘yes’.”

 

“Isn’t green a bit bright?” Sakura studied the numerous little bottles of nail polish that Temari had no idea where they had come from. Ino and Sakura were clustered in Temari’s room – which was different; Temari had never had another woman in her bedroom with her - and she was staying out of their way while they debated colours, allowing Matsuri to file her nails.

“Everything in the desert is brown,” Ino pointed out. “Some colour might be nice.”

“Is your dress white?” Sakura called over her shoulder.

“No,” Temari replied, sitting on the bed and leaning against the wall, while Matsuri sat cross-legged beside her, filing away happily.

“Shouldn’t it be white?” Matsuri frowned. “I thought white is for weddings.”

“White is for virgins; we’re not fooling anyone.” Temari pulled her hand away to inspect it, and admitted grudgingly, “. . . You’re doing a good job.”

“So, what, you choose a shade darker than white for every man you sleep with? How close to black are we?” Ino asked.

Temari cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Ino grinned. “I like how defensive you get. Seriously, though, what colour is the dress?”

“Lilac.”

“Paint her nails purple!” Sakura demanded.

“Hey, Tem, are you – gah!” Shikamaru paused, frozen halfway through the door. “Too many women in here. That’s never a good sign.”

“Take some of them away with you,” Temari offered. “What do you need?”

“Which of your elders called me an unworthy upstart trying to steal their princess?”

“Hatari. Why?”

“Ah. He spoke to me today, again. Said something about convincing you that you were making a mistake. I thought I’d pass on the message.”

“If you see him again tell him no one will ever find his body.” Temari rolled her eyes.

“Shikamaru,” Ino called. “What colour nail polish do you think Temari should have?”

“Oh, no, I’m not getting caught up in girl stuff,” Shikamaru backpedalled out the room. “I’m out. I will see you later.”

“Men are useless,” Ino huffed. She and Sakura continued their endless debate about colours.

“Are we doing anything tonight?” Matsuri asked. “Are you meant to do something the day before your wedding?”

Temari shrugged. “Shikamaru wants to stay in and sleep. Kankuro and I are going to eat too much chocolate and probably fall asleep on the couch.”

“Maybe we should go out,” Ino mused. “All the girls. Temari, you know good places to go out here. Where is a nice place for a last second bachelorette party?”

“Here, on the couch,” she replied flatly. “With my brother. The rest of you can leave.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We had fun last time – we can all go dancing together. Half of Konoha is in this village; we can get enough people together to make it a real party.” Ino finally selected a bottle of polish, with Sakura’s approving nod. “After we paint your nails.”

“If I’m going out dancing, then Shikamaru comes with, and we know he won’t, so I’m staying in,” Temari claimed.

“Just a quick question,” Sakura joined Ino on the foot of Temari’s bed. “Ino said you managed to get Shikamaru to dance with you once. How was that?”

“Probably boring as shit,” Ino mused, settling in to paint Temari’s toes.

“Was it boring when I took you dancing?” Temari raised an eyebrow.

“No. Which is how I know it was boring with Shikamaru,” Ino winked at her. “Because if you danced with him like you did with me, he’d have been dead.”

“Do they teach overtly seductive dancing in princess school?” Sakura enquired.

“No. Learnt that at places I wasn’t supposed to be in. Couple bars, few clubs . . . few missions where I might have gone off to have fun that I wasn’t meant to be having.” She shrugged.

Matsuri was looking rather scandalized by the conversation.

“Anyway, Shikamaru mostly watched me,” Temari added.

“What a gentleman,” Ino smirked. She lifted her head and hollered, “Shikamaru! You around?”

“He’s meeting with Gaara!” Kankuro shouted back from somewhere in the house.

“And that’s why I told both of them to get all the paperwork finished last week,” Temari rolled her eyes. “It has been an endless nightmare getting this all sorted out, and the council is still groaning about it.”

“Maybe you’re distracting Shikamaru,” Sakura said. “You know, with your overly seductive dancing that no one but Ino has seen.”

“Fine,” Temari growled. “Finish painting my nails and we’ll dance. Kankuro!”

“ _What_?”

“We need music in the lounge – change of plans for tonight. We’re dancing.”

“I’m not fucking dancing tonight,” Kankuro retorted. “You’re gonna force me to do it tomorrow, I’m not doing it two days in a row.”

“Come on!” she shouted. “I’m only getting married once!”

“We don’t know that for sure!”

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “Dumbass.”

“You’re a dumbass!” he shouted, and she could hear him stomping across the house, muttering, “Who’s at the door? Expecting anyone?”

“Probably the council with stakes and pitchforks,” Temari shrugged. “Try not to get killed.”

She listened for a response, but there was silence. Then, Kankuro yelled, “Temari, it’s for you!”

“I’m getting my nails painted!” she shouted back.

“It’s Laini!”

“Hey!” Ino squawked, as Temari bolted upright. “I’m busy! You can’t move!”

Temari ignored her, dashing from her room and running for the front door.

Sure enough, Kankuro was gesturing vaguely inside, while Laini stood in the doorway, nodding patiently.

“Laini!” she bounced up to him. “You made it. I thought you said you might not, with meetings going on all week?”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” he smiled warmly. “It’s good to see you looking so happy.”

She flung her arms around him, and he held her back. Her rapid departure had drawn Ino, Sakura and Matsuri out as well, and Ino raised an eyebrow. “So, _that’s_ Laini.”

“Temari settled,” Sakura muttered.

The ensuing commotion had made Gaara pop his head out of his study, and when he caught sight of Laini he shrugged, and muttered, “Shikamaru, take a break. Visitors.”

Wonderingly, Shikamaru exited the study, tilting his head to one side. “Hi?”

Temari let Laini go, reaching out to grab Shikamaru by the wrist and drag him closer.

“I told you about Laini, the Wind daimyo’s son,” Temari recapped. She shoved Shikamaru forward.

“This is Shikamaru,” she said, smiling proudly.

Laini bowed respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Shikamaru said, after a moment’s hesitation. There was a short silence, and Shikamaru wondered what he was supposed to say.

Temari saved him the trouble of overthinking it. “We were just putting some music on and dancing. Kankuro,” she barked, turning to him. “Music. How slow are you?”

“Faster than you, and this shit hasn’t been used in years, we’re going to burn the house down,” Kankuro snapped back from further into the house. “Do it yourself if you think you’re so smart.”

Temari flipped him off casually, then turned back to Laini. “Can you stay for a while? And dance with me?”

Laini looked to Shikamaru, who shrugged, “The more she dances with you the less she’ll ask me. Go ahead.”

Temari grinned. “I’ll still make you dance with me. You don’t get off that easily.”

“Nothing with you is ever easy,” Shikamaru replied dryly.

Temari didn’t bother to reply, moving to snap at Kankuro and his inability to get the music working.

“Thank you,” Laini said, not taking his eyes off Temari. “For letting her find you. For holding her close.”

Shikamaru looked at Temari, who smiled sunnily back at them both. His expression softened, and he didn’t say it aloud, but he wanted to tell Laini he didn’t get Temari by holding her close.

He got her by letting go.

 

“Are you nervous?”

Temari had forced everyone to leave her alone on the morning of her wedding, except for Kankuro, who sat behind her on her bed, brushing her hair.

“No. Feel really calm, actually.” She studied her nails. Ino had been very proud of them, and Temari was trying to resist the urge to pick at the pale purple polish on them.

“Think Shikamaru’s nervous?”

“Definitely.”

Kankuro snorted softly. After a few more minutes of dragging the brush through her golden hair, he asked, “How are you tying this up for the wedding?”

Temari’s shoulders stiffened slightly. “Um . . . I’m not.”

She felt Kankuro’s hand stop. There was a long minute of silence. “Oh.”

She swallowed. “. . . Think it’ll look okay loose?”

Another long silence. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice rough. “Yeah, it’ll look fine.”

He continued brushing her hair, and she relaxed a fraction. After a few minutes, he spoke again, sounding more like himself, “We’re still on for breakfast, right?”

“Duh.” Temari smiled. “It’s the last morning I’ll be unattached, gotta savour the moment.”

A soft knock on the door caught their attention, and they both looked to find Gaara standing there.

“Morning,” he said. “Do you need anything?”

“We’re going out for breakfast,” Kankuro announced. “Once I’ve fixed the mess that Temari’s hair became overnight.”

“Oh. Okay.” Gaara shifted a bit. “Have fun. Don’t take too long; there’s still a lot to-“

“You’re coming with,” Temari said.

Gaara blinked. “I am?”

“Yes. You didn’t think we’d leave you out, did you?”

He cocked his head slightly. “I thought it would just be the two of you.”

“The three of us,” Temari said, with a broad smile. “Do you want to?”

Finally, Gaara’s expression softened. “Yes,” he replied. “I’d love to.”

 

Shikamaru had seen the dress before, but even so he sat on Temari’s bed smiling like an idiot while she shrugged it on and turned around for him to pull the zip up her back.

“You’ve got about two minutes before Ino bursts in with that arsenal of makeup, so stop grinning like a creep,” Temari said.

“Can’t help it.” Shikamaru curled his fingers in her hair, before drawing his hands back. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you look like you’ve just woken up,” she turned to him. “When are you getting ready?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Chouji and Naruto will be here to kidnap me soon. I thought it’d be nice to steal a few minutes alone with you.” He took one of her hands in his, raising it to kiss her fingers softly.

She grinned at him. “Sappy little Leaf ninja. Go dress up.”

With a loud, reluctant sigh, he stood up. “Fine, I’m going.”

He passed Baki in the doorway, stopping to give him a brief nod of acknowledgement.

“Hi,” Temari said, somewhat curiously. She hadn’t expected to see Baki before the wedding.

He stood just inside her room, taking a moment to look her over. He didn’t say anything, but she caught the flicker of quiet pride that crossed his face.

“I have something for you to look at,” he said, coming closer to her.

“Yeah?” Temari tilted her head, interested.

“I had to get this from the elders,” Baki said, “But I thought you might want to have it. It’s been sitting in one of the treasuries’ safes.”

He held out a worn-looking velvet box.

Temari took it curiously, opening it. There was a fine golden chain inside, attached to a gold pendant of an open fan. There were three tiny green stones embedded into the fan. Temari looked up at Baki questioningly.

“That was your mother’s. The three stones were for you and your brothers. Karura always said she wanted three children. One for each star on her fan.” Baki cleared his throat. “She wore that on her wedding day.”

Temari stared at the necklace. “. . . Is my fan . . . Mom’s . . .?”

“Yes. It is.” Baki nodded, then added, in a smaller voice, “Your father made that necklace for her.”

Temari was silent. She had no idea what to say. She picked the necklace up, feeling the delicate chain drape over her fingers. The fan lay in her palm, small and shining. It was light and barely weighed a thing, but there was an enormity to it that she couldn’t explain.

Very carefully, Baki took it from her, unclasping the chain and settling the fan around her neck. It lay just over her collar bones, a warm contrast to her tanned skin.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft whisper, staring at the fan in the mirror.

He nodded shortly, before turning to leave.

“Baki,” Temari turned to watch him go.

He paused in the doorway, looking back at her. “Yes, Princess?”

“Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.” She looked at him earnestly. “I . . . don’t tell you that enough.”

He gazed gently at her. “You’re welcome.”

 

Kankuro made his way to the room Shikamaru was staying in, pushing the door open and demanding loudly, “Anyone who isn’t Shikamaru, _out_. I need him alone for a minute.”

Shikamaru spun around, out of Chouji’s grasp, where his friend had been meticulously making sure the collar of his shirt was neat. Naruto paused as well, looking at Kankuro quizzically.

Always to the point, he asked, “Are you going to kill him?”

Kankuro snorted. “No. But get out.”

After a pause, Naruto and Chouji eased past Kankuro.

He fully entered the room, and closed the door before crossing his arms over his chest, studying Shikamaru shrewdly.

Shikamaru drew back a bit. After a short silence, he ventured, “Here to tell me I’m not good enough for her? And she’s stupid to marry me?”

“I know you’re used to hearing that in this village, but no.” Kankuro shrugged. “She chose you. That’s good enough for me.”

“Really?”

“I trust Temari with my life,” Kankuro said. “No reason I wouldn’t trust her with her own.”

Shikamaru was still watching him, slightly guarded. “Okay?”

“It was just us growing up. Dad wasn’t any help, and Gaara wasn’t exactly cuddly. So it was just me and her, and now that you’re in the picture, there’s a few things I need you to know.”

Shikamaru didn’t interrupt.

“She’s a wild wind, okay? And wild winds aren’t meant to be caged. Ever.”

“I wouldn’t-“

“Your thing is trapping people. Your thing is the one thing that’s been bothering her for her whole life. Don’t think we don’t know it. I just want you to realize how much she trusts you. She’s letting herself into the very situations she’s tried to avoid, just for you. Because she believes she’s safe with you. Because she thinks you’ll never try anything with her that she doesn’t want.”

Shikamaru stayed silent, waiting to see if Kankuro needed to add more.

“She’s giving you more trust than she’s ever given anyone else except for me. So don’t be stupid with that trust, and don’t do anything dumb with her.”

“Or you’ll kill me?” Shikamaru arched an eyebrow.

Kankuro snorted. “That’s just insulting. Temari would do it herself. No, I’m not here to threaten you. Shouldn’t need to.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here because Temari is the most important person in my life, and she’s choosing to let you in to our family. I’m here because I want to know that she’s safe, that you’ve got her back, that she’s gaining someone. I want to know that when I’m not there for her, you will be.”

“I’ll be there,” Shikamaru promised.

“Family looks out for each other. We stick together, and we protect each other. You’re part of this family now,” Kankuro nodded solemnly. “We’d expect nothing less from you, and you can depend on us. This village is your home, and you will be protected here.”

“Thank you,” Shikamaru said.

Kankuro clapped a hand onto Shikamaru’s shoulder, face breaking into a grin. “Welcome to Suna’s royal family, Nara. Good luck, you’ll need it.”

“Gaara?” Shikamaru guessed, cocking an eyebrow.

“Pfft, no,” Kankuro grunted. “Gaara’s the sanest person in this family. No, you’re taking on Suna’s hurricane. You need all the luck you can get.”

“Dunno,” Shikamaru smiled. “Feels like I got pretty lucky already.”

 

Temari watched from the hallway, looking through the half open door into the huge room where everyone was waiting for the ceremony to start. It was strangely surreal, the realization that within the hour she would officially be married to Shikamaru, would have navigated her way through all the loopholes and drama to reach this point.

Nothing in life had ever felt so right.

“Last moments of peace,” Kankuro teased, coming to stand at her side. “Changed your mind?”

“No,” Temari shook her head. “Definitely not.”

“Ah, well,” Kankuro shrugged casually. “Probably for the best. It was a lot of drama to get here. Better not chicken out.”

“Backing down isn’t really my thing,” she grinned.

Kankuro nodded. “Good thing, too. No way in hell you’d have gotten this far without a fight.” He peered through the door as well, shaking his head slightly at Shikamaru. “Look at your dork.”

Shikamaru had Mirai on his hip while he waited, smiling softly at the child. Temari didn’t think she had seen him put her down in the last few hours. The child kept a firm hold of him as well, never letting go with more than one hand at a time, as though concerned he would be spirited away from her.

_That’s exactly what you’re doing_ , Temari thought grimly, her previously light mood sobering. _You’re going to take Shikamaru away from her, and she’s going to lose the only father figure she’s ever known._

_And Shikamaru is hardly ever going to see her._

And she knew how hard distance could be. She knew what it was like to love someone and have them days away and out of reach. She knew how it hurt, and how it ate away at you. How hard it was not to have someone older and dependable around. Someone to listen, to guide you.

_I can’t take him away from all that_ , she thought, the realization settling firmly in her chest. He had too much that he was willing to give up for her.

Ino, who had redone her make up twice already.

Chouji, who was trying his best not to start crying before things even got fully underway.

Naruto, who had spent his entire visit in Suna hounding Gaara, and was now chatting loudly to anyone who would stand still long enough to listen to him.

Shikamaru had a lot. Not just the forest that he loved so much, with all its peaceful hiding spots, and all its clouds. He had an important job that he couldn’t do from Suna ( _But you can do yours from Konoha_ , she reminded herself.) He had a clan that he had been willing to hand over, even though no one on earth was more suited to lead than he was. He had a team that were like his siblings, and she knew what it felt like to think of leaving siblings.

_Except you can see yours easily_ , she thought. _You can come home any time._

She sighed lightly, prompting a questioning noise from Kankuro.

Instead of a clear answer, she fumbled for his hand.

She closed her hand in Kankuro’s squeezing lightly. He squeezed back.

She didn’t take her eyes off Shikamaru and Mirai. “You’ll be okay without me, won’t you?”

He followed her gaze. With a soft, slightly rueful smile, he nodded, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” Kankuro replied, squeezing her hand again. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll come visit all the time.”

“Bring shampoo. We run out whenever you’re not here.”

She huffed a small laugh, turning to face him.

Kankuro indicated vaguely to Shikamaru. “He better take care of you properly.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“I know. But still.” He moved first, pulling her into a strong hug. She gripped him firmly back. They stayed like that, right until Gaara’s voice interrupted, “This is a long hug.”

“Gaara,” Temari turned her head to him, not letting Kankuro go. “If I . . . you wouldn’t be mad, would you, if I wasn’t in Suna?”

Gaara’s head swivelled to Shikamaru. “. . . The child?”

“Yeah. She . . . doesn’t have a dad anymore. Just Shikamaru. He promised to protect her and raise her. We know what it’s like to be missing a parent.”

“And we don’t want to have others suffer like we did,” Gaara added softly. He let out a quiet sigh. “Alright. You can . . . you can stay in Konoha. Just promise you’ll visit a lot.”

“I will.”

“And when you do come over,” Gaara said, looking somewhat sheepishly at the floor. “. . . Bring that bodywash of yours, because I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Ask Laini.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Then suffer until I come back home.” Temari detached one arm from Kankuro to scoop Gaara into her grip as well. She held him tightly, waiting until he unfroze and carefully, slightly hesitantly, wrapped his arms around her.

Eventually, Temari pulled away from both of them. She blinked back the sudden wetness in her eyes.

“Will you be happy in the forest?” Kankuro asked, eyes just as wetly bright.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I will be.”

“Lot of shadows there.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. They can’t hurt me.”

Kankuro returned her smile, pulling her in for another firm hug.

Gaara laid a hand on her shoulder. “Can I go inside and get things started?”

Temari let out a breath. “Yeah. Let’s get this done.”

He nodded, turning to leave. He paused, though, seemingly in the middle of an internal debate. “Um,” he cleared his throat, looking carefully at Temari. “Your hair looks really nice loose.”

Temari blinked. A sudden hot rush of warmth surged through her. It bubbled out of her in a gentle, achingly fond smile. “Thanks, Gaara.”

His lips twitched, and he looked away from her quickly. He entered the hall.

“Ready for this?” Kankuro asked, close by her shoulder.

She looked at Shikamaru. As usual, he was already watching her through the half open door, with a gentle, peaceful expression. A sudden feeling of warmth rose up within Temari’s chest at the sight of him, a lightness she didn’t feel like she was ever going to get used to. It was an all-encompassing serenity that she thought everyone should experience.

“Been ready for months,” she stated.

“Princess, do you have a minute?” A new voice interrupted.

Temari shot a glare down the passageway, where Hatari stood with a sour expression.

“Ruin my wedding and I swear to god I will kill you in front of everyone and not get a single drop of blood on this dress,” she growled. Kankuro shifted a bit closer to her.

Hatari raised his chin slightly. “Noted. But not what I wanted to talk about.”

Temari’s fingers touched briefly on the golden fan around her neck, and she asked snippily, “What do you want, then?”

“This is your last chance to think this through and do the right thing. You don’t have to go through with this wedding.”

“I’m going to, though. Seems like a good plan.”

“And when Suna falls,” Hatari asked. “Will it be a good plan then?”

She had been expecting this. Gaara had warned her not to say anything too brash, Kankuro had encouraged violent destruction of property. He snorted derisively, and she knew it was encouragement to say whatever she wanted. She kept her head high. “If the village falls because of me, so be it.”

This, clearly, was not the sort of answer Hatari was expecting. He floundered for a moment. “Princess, you have an obligation-“

“I am Suna’s hurricane,” she said boldly. “And if this village falls due to a marriage – which it won’t; Gaara would never let it – then stand in the wake of my destruction and recognise my power. I have the strength to topple one of the five great shinobi villages.” She smiled confidently. “And all you can do is watch.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have no idea how tempted I was to add a chapter to this story, and just put one single word here. Just 'Yes', and nothing else. I had to wrestle with my self-control not to do it.


	46. Baki's Wild Wind

Immediately after the wedding, she dragged him outside, onto the roof, where it was just the two of them and the desert sun and wind, and for a while they just stood there and looked at the dunes.

Temari tracked the horizon line, green eyes flicking over the endless sand, and Shikamaru stared at her. At the bright liveliness in her eyes, and the way the wind swept through her hair. It was unbearably hot outside, but Temari didn’t seem to notice. She closed her eyes against the wind, felt it wrap around her skin, and drew in deep breaths.

That was the first time Shikamaru noticed how breath-taking the view was.

Beautiful things grew in the desert.

 

It was surreal, looking at her, knowing they were bound together forever, that no matter what happened, every decision from now on was made with her in mind and was made knowing they were together as a team, they were deeper than a team.

Shikamaru sat in a daze, just watching the reception pass him by, eyes on Temari as she bullied Kankuro into dancing with her. She was gorgeous, and she was his, and he was certain people were staring at him, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t look away from her.

Baki sat down next to him, not saying anything, not even looking at him.

Shikamaru twitched away nervously, automatically ready to be defensive.

“She couldn’t have chosen better.”

“What?” Shikamaru blurted out, flummoxed. It had not been the way he was expecting a conversation to start.

Baki looked at him shrewdly. “It’s not about status; it’s not about power. She doesn’t care about that. She wouldn’t care if no one had ever heard of you and never would. She chose you because you let her be herself. You never tried to change her.”

Baki shifted. “There’s always been a lot of expectation around those kids,” he nodded to Kankuro and Temari. “And Gaara, as well. Pre-set lives and too many responsibilities on them. A lack of freedom. You let her be free, and that’s why she stayed with you.”

Kankuro had given in to Temari’s demands, reluctantly letting himself be dragged around the dancefloor, but he was talking and rolling his eyes, and Temari was grinning at him, and Shikamaru relaxed some more.

“I used to look at them and feel like I was looking into the past,” Baki continued, just watching Temari and Kankuro. “It was like seeing Rasa and Karura again. But I’ve realized I’m not looking at the past. I’m looking at the future.”

He stared at Shikamaru, who stayed very still.

“You’re a good kid,” Baki muttered. “You gotta be smart to keep up with her.”

He continued to watch them. “So make sure Temari’s future stays on track. She doesn’t need you, but she wants you, and don’t forget that. She’s still her own person without you. You’re adding to her, not completing her. You don’t own her, and you don’t control her. Understand that?”

“Yes,” Shikamaru murmured.

“Good.” Baki sat up a bit straighter as Temari approached them.

She went straight to Baki, steps hesitating the closer she got.

“Dance with me?” Temari asked.

“No,” Baki said flatly.

“Please?”

“The answer is still no.” Baki stayed firmly where he was.

Temari turned her questioning gaze to Shikamaru instead.

“You can’t take him yet,” Baki said. “I still need to talk to him.”

“Don’t be mean,” Temari replied, face cracking into a smirk. “You’ll scare him off.”

“If he’s scared off that easily, he never deserved you in the first place.”

Shikamaru stayed quiet during the exchange, but he leaned forward slightly when Temari left, subconsciously keen to follow her.

“She likes dancing,” Baki said gruffly. “So let her do it every now and again. Take her out somewhere. And she likes chocolate – there’s a cherry one from Kiri that’s her favourite.”

“I know. We get it in Konoha.”

“Good.” Baki seemed to be thinking hard. Finally, he added, “She’s only cruel when she thinks she needs to be. When she thinks she has something to prove. So, if you do your job right, and treat her right, she’ll be gentle with you. Don’t let her get to the point where she feels as though she’s not good enough, and don’t let her think she has no way out but to fight.”

Shikamaru just nodded, figuring he wasn’t required to say anything.

Baki cleared his throat. “That’s it. Make her happy. Let her be free.”

“I thought you’d threaten to kill me,” Shikamaru admitted.

Baki gave him a wry smile. “Temari doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles for her. And I’m not going to harm something that she loves.”

Shikamaru considered that. “. . . Thanks.”

Baki seemed to think the conversation was over. He stood up, gave Shikamaru an acknowledging nod, and disappeared into the crowd.

Shikamaru’s next interruption appeared in front of him. He blinked at the woman.

“So, you’re the reason for all the drama,” she said, looking Shikamaru up and down.

“Hi,” Shikamaru said carefully.

“I’m Uzuri. River Daimyo.” She nodded at him. “Known Temari since she was a lot younger and a lot more problematic.”

“You mean she’s gotten _less_ troublesome?” Shikamaru asked.

“No. Just gained some self-control.” She looked at him shrewdly. “I understand you worked as the Hokage’s aide.”

“I did,” Shikamaru confirmed.

“Can I pick your brains for a bit? I have some questions about the Fire country.”

“Go ahead,” Shikamaru shrugged. “As long as it’s not security questions.”

“No,” her mouth twitched up in a smile. “It’s more of the ‘trying to help’ variety.”

 

Temari had found a willing dance partner in Laini, as she always did.

They had been mostly silent, just enjoying the music and the movement, and she had been resting her chin on his shoulder and watching the rest of the room. Ino had been spinning from partner to partner, Chouji had been keeping Mirai occupied, and she had smiled and waved at Jade as he went past with Matsuri flushing bright pink but following his lead anyway.

Naruto had cornered Gaara and hadn’t stopped talking all day, and Kankuro was keeping an eye on her, offering random smiles and little grins and the day couldn’t be more perfect.

She drew her head back a bit, looking searchingly into Laini’s blue eyes.

“Do you ever regret that things didn’t work out between us?” Temari asked.

“Sometimes,” Laini answered honestly. “But you wouldn’t have been happy with me. Besides,” he smiled. “I’m not sure the Estate could survive a hurricane.”

She grinned at him. “It probably couldn’t.”

They fell silent again, just enjoying each other’s company, before Laini indicated to Shikamaru. “You’re going to need to save your husband. Uzuri is talking to him.”

She laughed. “He can handle it.”

“I don’t know. She’s been there for a while. He looks like he’s silently screaming for help.”

She snorted. “Okay, okay, I’ll go rescue him. But don’t vanish. I’m not done with you, yet.”

“Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” Laini said lightly. He moved back a bit, holding her lightly at arm’s length. He gazed at her, raising one hand to brush her bangs back slightly. “It’s so lovely to see you looking happy. With everything.”

“It feels good,” she admitted. “I wish you could tell me you’re happy, as well.”

“Life is satisfying enough,” he said. “I’m content. But, if you really want to add to that, feel free to stop by the Estate any time for drinks and a talk. Bring Shikamaru with you.”

“I will,” she promised.

She glanced towards Shikamaru, who was still being held captive by Uzuri. He looked perfectly relaxed though, listening to whatever she was saying, and she could see the look he got when he was thinking hard.

She left Laini, curious now as to what was holding his attention.

“Hey,” Temari said, coming to stand at Shikamaru’s side.

Uzuri eyed her. “Congratulations on the wedding, Princess. Never thought I’d see the day. I know at your wedding probably isn’t the best place to talk business, but I have a proposition for you and Suna.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a lot of unused space in the River country,” Uzuri said. “You and I both know we have trouble with children who either don’t have families or have families who don’t want them. You’ve got skeletons scattered in a desert, and I’ve got kids being abandoned and trafficked.”

“I know,” Temari said.

“There aren’t enough places around just dedicated to helping children. I want to form a place that will. Right on the border, easy access for kids from both countries. We’ve got all the messes from the previous generations to clean up. This is my starting point.”

“I like it,” Temari agreed. “It’s something that’s needed.”

“I’d like to open it to all countries. Or even get a system going where we can show other countries what we’re doing and help them start places of their own.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“I’m gonna need an ambassador,” Uzuri said. “Preferably someone who knows both the Wind Country and the River Country. Might help to have some sort of ties to Konoha, because the Fire Country isn’t doing much better at looking after kids.” She sent Shikamaru a look.

He shrugged helplessly. “Wars create difficulties.”

“And it’s up to us to correct them,” Uzuri replied. “The position would probably involve a fair amount of travelling. But I guess that might suit someone who doesn’t like being tied down.” She cocked an eyebrow. “What do you say?”

Temari took a moment to consider it.

“If it helps,” Uzuri added, “There’ll be a lot of conferring with the Wind daimyo.”

Temari glanced behind her, trying to find Laini in the crowd. She looked back at Shikamaru, who smiled encouragingly.

“Go on, Tem, you’ve always wanted to make the world safer. I’m with you.”

_Make a whole world where no child fears anything_ , she thought. She sought out Shikamaru’s hand, entwining their fingers.

“Yes,” she said to Uzuri. “I’m in.”

Uzuri nodded shortly, turning away. She paused, though, glancing back over her shoulder. “Your hair looks better down.”

Temari blinked. “. . . Thanks.”

She stood for a moment, before recovering her wits and turning to Shikamaru. “Dance with me. You’re standing anyway.”

“Aren’t you tired yet?” Shikamaru sighed. “I’ve been tired just watching you.”

“Slow dance,” Temari assured him, placing his hands where she wanted them. “Nothing difficult. Just move with me. That’s all.”

She pressed close against him, revelling in the warmth of him, the feeling of closeness and peacefulness. The whole world was calm around them. She wasn’t used to it.

Life felt different.

“You’re gonna be busy,” Shikamaru noted, smiling gently at her. “Travelling around, all these projects going on.”

_And you’ll be lonely_ , she thought. _If you were stuck in Suna without me, and no one around to keep you company_. And that wasn’t a life that anyone should lead. Especially not Shikamaru, who clung so strongly to family ideals. Who held the next generation in the highest regard.

She stared into his eyes, thinking hard. Making decisions, doing what he always did – thinking it through. Planning for everything. Deciding on the best course of action. Uzuri had cemented the decision she had come to earlier in the day.

“We should move back to Konoha,” Temari said softly.

Shikamaru looked at her sharply. “Are you sure about that? You don’t like it in Konoha.”

“I do. It’s beautiful. It just takes some getting used to, and,” she hesitated. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to my brothers.”

“Are you ready now?”

“No. I never will be. But you give up far more to live here than I do to live in Konoha. And I’ll adapt. I’ve told them already, and they’re okay with it. And . . .” She looked at him. “And we decided Konoha was better for kids.”

Shikamaru stopped moving. “. . . What?”

“I was watching you and Mirai,” Temari admitted. “I liked what I was seeing. I liked how happy and natural you look. And I think about how close Kankuro and I am, and how much better life was with him, and with Gaara. And I just thought,” she looked at him, forest green eyes soft. “Wouldn’t it be great to be able to give a child that same experience, and do it even better? Without the fear and the fighting.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because of me?”

She smiled, soft and sweet. “I mean . . . it’s not a definite plan, but . . . I love my family. I can’t see a downside to expanding it. Can you?”

He let out a breath, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “No. No, I’ve always wanted that. We can talk about it. We can . . . figure it out. Thank you,” he breathed. “For thinking about it. For considering it.”

“If we’re gonna do all this work to make the world a better place,” she whispered. “We need someone to show it off to.”

 

Baki was sitting near the edge of the big hall, watching people move about. Crowds and massive gatherings had never been his thing, but he would make exceptions for Temari.

She came up to him, looking nervous.

“Do not ask me to dance,” he began firmly.

“I won’t.” She sat down next to him. After a moment of thinking, she edged a bit closer, leaning lightly against his arm. He lifted it and wrapped it around her shoulders, and some of her tension drained away.

“Baki,” she said hesitantly. “Kankuro and Gaara already know, but I’ll . . . I’ll be going back to Konoha with Shikamaru. To live there.”

Baki didn’t say anything, but he did grip her a little tighter. After a tense silence, he replied, “Starting anew?”

“It’s not starting over. It’s adding on. I’m not trying to reset my life and forget everything that’s happened to me. I’m trying something new.”

“Why? Aren’t you happy in Suna?”

“You know I am. But,” she leant her head on his shoulder. “I want Shikamaru to be happy, too. And I want to make a life with him that isn’t limited by anything. We . . . we want to start a family.” She paused there, wondering what Baki would think.

He stayed quiet for a bit, mulling her words over. “You can’t do that here?”

“It wouldn’t feel right. I don’t know if I could raise a child knowing there were skeletons scattered throughout the desert, and with all the danger that used to be around. It’d worry me too much. I think I’ve got too many hang-ups. Konoha would make me feel safer.”

Baki remained silent.

“Is that okay?” she asked, uncertain of why she was hesitating.

Baki nodded shortly.

“Say something?”

“Temari, you don’t need my approval to live your life.”

“I know. But I want to hear what you have to say anyway.” She looked earnestly at him.

He pulled her a little closer, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You said I’m a wild wind that no one can keep hold of. I’m sorry I’m . . . leaving. I’m sorry you can’t keep me here.”

Baki hummed low in response. “I already told you. You go wherever you choose to go. And wild winds come back.” He stroked his hand up and down her arm softly. “You’re gonna do fine, hurricane.”

“I’ll do better than Dad did,” she murmured.

He made a considering noise in the back of his throat. “You always have.”

“So, what do you think?” she pressed, needing his opinion, his guidance.

He offered her one of his rare, warm smiles, the ones that were only for her and her brothers. “. . . I think grandkids sounds great.”

 

“I’m done,” Shikamaru said wearily. “I’m done dancing. Just leave me here to die, and go and find someone else.” He sank dramatically into a chair.

“Oh, stop being such a crybaby,” Temari replied flippantly. She flopped into a chair next to him. “It’s not like I’m _only_ dancing with you.”

“Go ask Ino again,” he suggested. “That was fun to watch.”

Temari rolled her eyes at him and was about to retort when Kankuro came up to them, with Gaara behind him.

“Tem?” Kankuro interrupted. “You busy?”

“Not really. What’s up?”

“Gaara’s got something to ask you,” Kankuro stepped aside.

Gaara looked petrified, but he stayed resolutely where he was, frowning slightly.

Temari raised an eyebrow.

After a moment, Gaara cleared his throat, cheeks already flushing pink. He held out a hand, and mumbled quietly, “Dance with me?”

 

 


	47. Karura's Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll pretend I tied up all loose ends but seeing as I made a grand total of two notes on this story (And both were in the first half) I'm sure I've forgotten something. I am the absolute champion of winging it.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented, gave kudos, recommended etc for this story - it got a lot more attention than I was expecting, and that's exciting for me and makes me sad it's ending. I've had a great time writing this and hearing everyone's opinions on it. Everyone's support has been fantastic - huge, huge thank you.

She had worn her hair loose for three days now. Just leaving it to be wild and free, combing her fingers through it several times a day. She would catch glimpses of herself in the windows. She was a mess, and she knew it, but she didn’t care.

She watched herself now, as she walked through the house, barefoot on the wooden floors and watching her reflection move from one pane of glass to the next.

All the way to the back door, where the forest air wrapped around her. Damp and earthy in a way she would never get used to. Shadows playing everywhere, dappling the floor and the grass.

They slid over her skin in a safe and comforting way, curling around her body in a way she had come to love. It was familiar, it made her feel safe, being surrounded by shadows she knew could hold her and protect her if she needed.

And if she didn’t need that, they would slide over her skin and leave her alone, only stepping in when she wanted. She wandered out onto the porch.

The dappled sunlight made patterns on the smooth wooden boards. A quick glance to the side showed her what she was looking for.

Shikamaru sat against one of the wooden pillars, legs draped carelessly around him, his weight held by the pillar. He was asleep, chin lolled forward, body curved slightly around the child he held in his arms.

Some days, Temari still marvelled that Shikadai existed. Still couldn’t believe that she had all that she had. And when she saw him like that, just a tiny, barely there baby, cradled in the arms of his father, it gave rise to a powerful emotion in her chest that she couldn’t name.

“Hey, boys,” she mouthed, not giving the words any volume.

She sat down, legs folded under her, almost close enough to rest her shoulder against Shikamaru’s. She didn’t, purely because she didn’t want to wake him. Shikamaru shifted slightly in his sleep, expression scrunching up, but his eyes didn’t flicker open. He remained where he was, his breathing keeping its regular, deep rhythm.

Shikadai yawned, green eyes peeping open. He blinked a few times, hazy and trying to make sense of the world. His gaze landed on Temari, and he stared at her, before yawning again. His eyes closed, and he sighed out a long breath.

Temari stared at the forest. A small, dark coloured deer stood in the shadow of a tree, staring back at her. After a moment, the deer shook her head, ears whipping, then reached down to nibble delicately at the grass.

Temari took in the silence.

It was still strange. Silence, without the feeling that something was coming. Peace, without the doubt that it would change in a heartbeat. Shadows, without the fear that something was lurking within them.

And a child, with no need to assume the world would snatch away a parent, or a childhood, or innocence.

Shikadai’s world held no terror.

Temari smiled softly at him.

Her child would grow up with nothing to fear.


End file.
